Arranged
by zunaira ghazal
Summary: Arranged marriage in the twenty-first century might have been uncommon, but not unheard of. "You're mommy's special little snowflake, aren't you?"
1. Chapter 1

**Arranged  
** **Summary:** Arranged marriage in the twenty-first century might have been uncommon, but not unheard of. "You're mommy's special little snowflake, aren't you?"

* * *

 _"Checkmate!" she smiled broadly._  
 _Disarmed by that last move, the King fell for her._

* * *

The first thing Mikoto noticed about her was the pink hair – a rumpled mess, pinned hastily on top of her head – then the delicate, lean frame, and those _eyes_ – a rare sort of jade, lush and light, like the sprawling expanse of her lawn; she wanted _grandbabies_ with those eyes. So as she breathed slowly, surely, as regularly as she should, under the coolness of the stethoscope, she decided that this young woman, if she turned out to be the gem Mikoto's intuition was telling her that she must be, was going to marry her Sasuke.

"I've never seen you around the general section before, Dr. Haruno."

She blinked, shaking herself out of the concentration – apparently her respiration was slightly out of the norm. It took her a moment, to fully focus on Mikoto's words. Then she looked up right in Mikoto's eyes, and her eyes crinkled in a smile. "I was lucky enough to stand in for Dr. Kato, today."

* * *

It didn't take much effort after that. Turns out, if you're a person of means, there is very little in this world you can't accomplish. Uchiha Mikoto had, never in her life abused that kind of power, but she had her heart set on something—someone—and this time, no one was going to stand in her way.

* * *

There was very little Uchiha Sasuke was not willing to do for his mother, and it wasn't exactly a closely guarded secret. He loved his family, and he wasn't afraid to admit it. He had never exactly made a production of his feelings, but those who mattered knew, and that was more than enough.

For her part, his mother had never asked him for much. Just trivial, inconsequential things; things that could be bought with money, time that would be willingly offered, love that was readily doled out without even asking.

So when she sat him down one afternoon, face completely void of expression, but eyes glittering with hope, Sasuke knew that his mother wanted something. He was completely unaware of the extent of that wish.

"Hello, darling," Uchiha Mikoto stood on the very tips of her toes to deliver his cheek a kiss. He leaned down to receive it graciously.

"Mother," he nodded with a slight smile.

She beamed at him, noted his slightly awkward posture and admonished him for working too hard, all in a single breath. Then she sat down across from him and her expression flickered off. That was his first clue.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," she started.

"Oh," he said, settling down beside her, a little wary, but not too concerned. "How can I help you?"

She was silent for a few moments, staring off behind his shoulders, mouth turned into a contemplative frown. "I would never," she started, "put you into a situation that would make you unhappy, Sasuke-kun."

He sat up a little straighter. "I'm aware, mother."

"So what I'm about to ask of you...might come off as selfish, and very...backward. But know that I have your best interest at heart, darling."

"What is it, mother?"

"It's…" she started, frowned, and fidgeted a little. "It's this girl, Sasuke-kun," she said, finally.

His brow furrowed into a frown. "A girl?"

"Yes," she said, and the smile on her lips made her eyes sparkle. "A beautiful, kind hearted, _amazing_ girl."

"I don't understand."

"I want you to marry her, Sasuke-kun."

"…What?"

The silence that followed that exchange was brittle as thin ice. Sasuke leaned back into the high end sofa, and stared unblinkingly at his mother. It took him a few minutes to comprehend the severity of the situation, and another few to finally form words to express his discontent.

"I…don't understand, mother?" The tail end of his sentence turned into a query.

Mikoto sighed, feeling apprehensive. "Do you have anyone you like, already?"

"No…"

She let out a relieved breath. "Okay," she continued, eyes bright and steady, "Then I _know_ it's a lot to ask of you, but would you please do your mother the incredible favor of meeting this girl?"

Sasuke prided himself on being a rational being. And rationality told him that whoever this girl was, whatever spell she'd put on his mother, was not to be trusted. The Uchiha name came with its own heavy burdens. It was not only a name with pedigree and prestige, but also hundreds of years of history, of blood and violence and treachery. It had taken a lot of sacrifice and surrender before his family had claimed the peace it so deserved. So the Uchiha, not being the trusting lot might have been an understatement.

As his slowly functioning brain began to creak, he figured that this girl might have been able to dupe his mother, but she was never getting to him.

There was very little Uchiha Sasuke wouldn't do for his mother. And as he nodded his reluctant accent, he vowed to put this person in their place.

* * *

It was during her second year of residency that Uchiha Mikoto visited their house. She never knew how, with her unpredictable schedule, she had been able to figure out exactly how to time her visit so as to run into Sakura.

All she knew was that her life would never be the same again.

There was a clinking of fine china and the sound of muffled conversation as she entered the house. As she threw her keys in the bowl by the door and went into the living room to investigate, her eyes widened with surprise.

"Um…"

Sitting languidly on their couch was the lovely lady she had examined a few days ago. As she turned to look at her, her eyes shone with smile, and Sakura felt an uneasy pinch in her gut.

Her parents on the other hand were frozen in alarm, their eyes wide and varying degrees of trepidation. There was an atmosphere of panic in the room, an air of confusion not at all alleviated in the least as Mebuki and Kizashi started speaking simultaneously, cutting and talking over each other so that she couldn't understand but a few words.

"You should go to your room—"

"WHY would you send her to—"

"We will handle—"

"This is her LIFE and she should—"

"Of course it's her—"

As Sakura stood in the doorway looking back and forth between her parents, there was a small, dainty cough. That small noise was enough to distract the Haruno's. All eyes on her, Mikoto smiled beatifically and said, "Why don't I explain the situation to Sakura-chan?"

"Yes, why don't you," said Mebuki, an allegation in her tone Sakura couldn't quite understand. At the same time, her already blaring suspicion radar began to detonate in her brain. Red lights were practically flashing in front of her eyes, screaming that this woman was _up_ to something.

"Would you mind giving us a minute, please?" she asked politely.

Sakura gave her parents a reassuring glance and nodded. They left and she sat down opposite Mikoto. "How can I help you?"

"My dear," she said in turn, "You are exquisite."

"Um," she moved back a little, "Thanks?"

When she laughed, Sakura felt an uneasy pressure build inside her chest.

"I am Uchiha Mikoto," she said, flashing a brilliant grin, "and I'm here to ask for your hand in marriage for my son."

The ensuing pause was tangible with Sakura's astonishment, confusion and disbelief, until it was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Yooou're kidding, right?" she said, finally.

"I'm afraid not." Mikoto's smile was good natured.

And even though she knew it was the epitome of _rude_ , she couldn't help but blurt, "Are you crazy?"

"No, dear."

The frown lines on Sakura's forehead could've rivaled the Grand Canyon for depth. Her brain was whirring, churning out possibilities, trying to make sense of a situation that simply refused to be made sense of. So in the end, she blinked, once, twice, five times, and very bluntly, said, "I think you should leave."

"That's incredibly rude," said Uchiha Mikoto, "but given the situation I understand your…less then accommodating behavior."

"Less then—what—hand in _marriage_!" Sakura sputtered incredulously. "What _century_ do you live in? I don't even _know_ you!"

Mikoto's eyes softened compassionately, and as she stood up and sat herself down next to her, Sakura scooted away, and resisted the hand Mikoto reached out for hers. "I know this may seem like a bolt out of the blue," she said in a warm, sugary tone, that sounded just custom made to lure bees to honey, "but please, would you consider just meeting my son once?"

" _No_ —"

"I swear," she promised, "If you do not take to him even a little, I would never bother you again. Ever."

"Is this a joke?"

"I assure you it's not."

"Is your son—" _a psycho_ , she wanted to say, but stopped herself. What person in their right mind would go to another person's house and ask for their hand in _marriage_ , she wondered. On the other end of the couch, Mikoto was looking at her hopefully. "Is your son," Sakura started again carefully, so as not to offend "in any, way or shape, you know— _indisposed_?"

"Oh, no dear," Mikoto smiled. "He might be a little prickly, to be honest but he's not in any way, indisposed, as you put it." Her eyes lit up as she continued. "In fact, he's quite handsome, if I say so myself. Also," her grin was conspirational, "his financial backing might surprise you."

Sakura felt a sudden stab of fury, and she took a deep breath to reign it in. "Do you think I'll be swayed by money?" she said slowly, deliberately, through clenched teeth.

"I'm counting on you to not be," was the cheery reply.

Sakura let out an angry breath, and rubbed a hand on her forehead, suddenly feeling very tired. "You're crazy."

"Now that's just plain rude, young lady."

"Please go away?"

"Not until you agree to meet him."

Sakura gave her an incredulous look. "You _do_ know that this is actual _harassment_ , right? I can file a report against you. I can file for a _restraining_ order against you!"

That made Mikoto back up a little. "I—apologize," she said, shoulders slumping. "I realize that I might have come off a bit strong, but—"

"A _bit_?" Sakura's laugh was hysterical.

"But," Mikoto continued, "I would be very, very grateful if you would meet my son for lunch tomorrow. Please?"

Sakura gave her a contemplative look. "Will you go away if I say yes?"

"Only if you mean it."

"You're crazy."

"So you've said."

"Look," said Sakura, holding on to the last tethers of her patience, "I'm sure your son is a wonderful person, but this is not the middle ages. You don't just go to someone's house and ask them to marry your son, okay?"

"I admit that I might have—jumped the gun, I guess," Mikoto admitted, "But now that I'm here, I can do nothing but ask you to give him a chance."

"Are you for real?!" She let out a frustrated breath, then rubbed her face angrily. "Okay," she said, having no intention on following through on her word, "Fine, I'll meet your son!"

"Great!" Mikoto's smile was a bright, beaming super nova. "He'll be at The Arcadian, at 1 o' clock on the dot, tomorrow!" then she snatched Sakura's hands and held them to her chest, "I promise you won't regret it."

If only she knew.

* * *

Standing on the brilliantly polished steps of The Arcadian, Sakura stared unblinkingly at the sophisticated calligraphy of the minimalist billboard. Then she took out her pager, and willed for it to beep with an emergency.

She had never intended to come. Just that her brain had imaginative ways of conjuring exactly the kind of psycho Mikoto's son was going to be, and she'd wanted to see in person.

She looked one last time at her pager, and when the screen still didn't light up, she heaved a breath. Filled with dread she walked inside.

A blast of air conditioning hit her as she entered and when she gave the maître d the name, she was led to a secluded table in a private alcove, where the most beautiful man she'd ever seem was waiting for her. His face was all sharp lines and angles, his lips full, with just the right amount of a pout. His shoulders were stiff and his posture was perfection. His eyes were the blackest she had ever seen—and considering she peered into people's eyes for a living, that was saying something. Right now, they were looking at her steadily as she walked closer to him.

She almost stumbled out of the chair as the maître d pushed it in, felt an embarrassed heat crawl all the way up her neck to her cheeks and cleared her throat awkwardly.

For his part, the man sitting opposite her looked just as uncomfortable.

They squirmed in perfect hemorrhoidal harmony. A moment of pain, and then he said, "Sakura?"

The way he called out her name made her bristle—like she was his own personal servant, one he was particularly fond of tormenting. He smiled, and she saw the Evil. It was coated with class, pampered with elegance, but very real. She knew in that moment that her decision to come, had been the right one. Her smile was almost a snarl.

* * *

Sasuke sat at the table, his spine ram-rod straight and his eyes burning with intensity. She was late. It bothered him that this person, who'd so flawlessly spun a magical web around his mother, was so assured, so confident of her hold, that she was willing to test it out on him. He grit his teeth in frustrated anger, then exhaled slowly to calm his churning mind.

Then he saw someone being led towards him.

She was in her mid twenties, with an intelligent face, a full sensuous mouth, sparkling eyes—that he would later find out, could change from a soft moss to a dark jade in moments—a trim athletic figure. But what made his hair stand on end was the color of her hair—a soft, corral pink that was perfectly in tune with her creamy complexion. She looked, almost like spring personified.

And as she stumbled into her chair, and he called her name, the look she gave him could've made a grown man cower. To him, it was mildly irritating. His mother had been clever. She'd only ever given him one name—and a generic one at that. Sakura. Just how many Sakura's were there in Konoha? Too many to filter on the internet. All he knew about this woman was all his mother had told him. _A beautiful, kind hearted, amazing girl._

He rolled his eyes grandly, and made a show of sipping his wine. He'd learned that the more imposing one's façade was, the more malleable the subject became. "I suppose," he drawled, voice menacing, "that you think you've won a prize here."

"Oh," her smile was sharp like a knife.

He frowned, set down his wine glass, and said, "I think we should get on with business." He pulled out his check book and a confidentiality contract from his briefcase. "I give you money, and you disappear. Never show your face to my mother."

He said it with such conviction that she had to blink once, slowly, to understand the direction of this conversation. Then her eye brows shot up and she let out an unbidden tinkle of laughter.

He looked up at her, baffled and a little miffed. "Is something funny?" His voice was deadpan, as were his eyes.

Her smile was disdainful and her eyes were flinty. "You're mommy's special little snowflake, aren't you?"

He had to grind his teeth to keep from snapping back at her. He felt his patience wearing thin. "If you think," he ground out, "that just because you've tricked my mother into believing you're some kind of _saint_ ," he spit out, "that you have an automatic in, with my family, then I can assure you, you are sadly mistaken."

Her fury was a palpable thing. "I didn't 'trick' your mother into believing anything!" she snapped. "I was just checking out her MRI and the next thing I know, she's at my house asking for my 'hand in marriage'!" She was breathing hard now, her face contorted in rage, her eyes alive with it. Her narrowed eyes reminded him of steel sharpened to killing point.

"So you're saying," he said in an uncanny juxtaposition of incredulous and frigid calm, "that it was my _mother_ who approached _you_?"

"Yes!"

"That is absurd."

"Your _face_ is absurd!"

For the first time, a glint of humor touched his finely sculpted mouth and arrogant dark eyes.

She let out a breath. "Listen," she started, "the only reason I showed up today was because I wanted to see in person just what kind of a fuck up needs his mother to set up a date with a perfect stranger." She flashed him a sweet, fake smile, telepathically telling him to eat shit and die. "Now that I've met you, I want you to know that I completely understand."

Over the course of her tirade, his expression had closed off. Now, he was burning holes into her face with rage-fuelled acid rays from his eyes, and she could swear he was on the verge of scraping his hoof across the ground before charging at her like a wounded bull and tossing her out the window to the streets below like a rag-doll.

"And I suppose," he grit out, "now that you've seen the full extent of…funding, behind this impromptu set up, you might be regretting your decision."

Sakura bristled. She understood now, that this man was a study in ego, and didn't take humiliation well. "Does it _sound_ like I'm regretting my decision? And is that your roundabout way of calling me a gold-digger?"

"I suppose it is." His tone was frigidly polite and pompous.

The look she gave him could've sunk the titanic. He was stuffed with so much pride she was surprised he hadn't actually burst at the seams. And it wasn't the good kind of pride either. It was the kind that made you look like an ass. "I think we're done here," she said, then got up, grabbed her purse, and turned around to leave.

"Please," Sasuke called out behind her. His voice was impossibly condescending, and against her better judgment, she stopped. She heard a soft rip of paper, a scrape of chair and his footsteps stopping right behind her. "Why don't I reimburse you for your time?"

She whirled around, the fury in her eyes as dangerous as a cocked gun.

"You arrogant, conceited, cold blooded, son of a bitch!"

It was admiration, pure and simple that burst through him as he was forced to catch her fist before it smashed into his face.

He wasn't expecting a foot to ram into his instep. As he staggered back, grimacing in pain, she spun around and stomped out of the restaurant.

He shut his eyes against the pain, and sat back in his chair. For a five foot nothing stick figure with no soul, she certainly had the strength of a hundred linebackers.

* * *

"What did you _do_ , mother?" Sasuke rounded on Mikoto as soon as he entered the Library.

The Uchiha Estate was vast; an enormous sprawl of land on the very periphery of Konoha, a quarter of it used as a ranch, and a small chunk housing the abode Sasuke had grown in. It was, had always been, in a perpetual state of preservation; grass clipped to within a millimeter of uniformity, semi-ancient Mahogany door polished to perfection, the buffed porcelain floors and the humongous gables inspiring a sense of home. And as he stormed up the grand stair case, past the portrait of great grandfather Madara and down the hall to the Library, where his mother sat in perfect mid-afternoon serenity, his mind churned with impossible aggravation.

"Sasuke-kun!" Mikoto smiled, surprise rendering her tone soft. "I didn't expect you to be here so soon." She shut her book close and stood up to put it back on the shelf. "Regardless, how did it go?"

Suddenly losing all his steam, Sasuke went and flopped down onto the golden chaise lounge. He could never stay mad at Mikoto.

"By the look on your face, I'd say it went badly." Mikoto's voice was slightly resentful, and it made Sasuke bristle.

"Of course it went bad!" he snapped, and promptly regretted it at the hurt that flashed in Mikoto's face. His face softened. "Mother," he started again, calmly, patiently, "you went to her home and demanded for her hand in marriage?"

Mikoto had the decency to blush. "I'll admit, that might have been a bit bold of me, but—"

"A bit?"

"That's what _she_ said—"

"You didn't tell me about it. I thought—" he stopped, sighed impatiently, "I thought she conned you. Or something."

"Oh Sasuke-kun!" Mikoto cried. "You _didn't_ say that to her, did you?"

"…I might have."

"That's horrible!"

Sasuke felt a stab of guilt, and his cheeks colored in embarrassment. "Who is she, anyway?" he mumbled.

Mikoto sighed, her shoulders slumped in discomfiture. "I'll tell you who she's not," she muttered. "My daughter-in-law."

"Well, I'm sorry, okay?" he snapped, testy and disgruntled. His mother had a way of burying him in mounds of guilt he didn't deserve.

Mikoto flipped her hair, then leaned back into the chaise, her shoulder's slouched impossibly low. "She's a Surgical Resident at Konoha Memorial. Second year. Brilliant, bright and amazing. She will go a long way."

Sasuke observed the starry eyed admiration in his mother's face, and felt his pride give a little. "Why would you set her up with _me_?"

"I don't know. I had a feeling," she explained, waving her hands about helplessly.

"You had a feeling," he repeated, voice dry as the desert.

"Yes."

"You do realize you sound ridiculous, right?"

"Sasuke-kun!"

He laughed, a soft breathy sound that made Mikoto's heart light up.

"Does Father know?" he asked.

Mikoto hesitated, then shrugged. "A little," she mumbled guiltily.

Sasuke sighed, shifted, then put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into his embrace. "Does Itachi know?" he asked, resting his cheek on a shock of raven hair so much like his own.

"Of course!"

"And he approved?" Sasuke asked, disbelieving.

A guilt-ridden pause.

"He's coming around."

"Oh, Mother." He shook his head.

"You should at least apologize to Sakura."

He knew this was only the beginning of the relentless prodding his mother would subject him to if he didn't agree. And if he were to be honest with himself, he felt a slight twinge of regret in his chest every time he thought of the last of their exchange. Offering the check had been petty of him. And he was nothing if not honorable.

* * *

"Complete and total prick," Sakura stated, popping a cherry into her mouth.

Naruto laughed. He had a happy laugh—contagious. It made his eyes sparkle and crinkle at the corners. Sakura determined he was going to have crow's feet by the time he was thirty. Across the table Hinata took his hand, and the two of them smiled each other, disgustingly in love. They were sitting at Ichiraku's, the best Ramen place in Konoha and Naruto's daily lunch haunt.

"Ahem." Sakura cleared her throat, deliberately. "Making me feel like a third wheel, guys."

"Sorry, Sakura-chan!" Naruto grinned, rubbing a hand at the back of his head.

"'s okay," she said. "Anyway, what did I expect, right?" she asked rhetorically, "The mom was a complete crazy. Why should the son be any better?"

"Eh, I don't know, Sakura-chan," Naruto drawled. "I've seen these people a couple times. They don't seem so bad." Hinata slurped her Ramen in a non committal way.

"Where did you see them?"

"This charity thing." Naruto's father was the ex-mayor, and a mentor to the one next in running. All his life, he'd been running around in elite circles, and his dream, was to one day, lead the City himself. They'd met in their second year of College, in a Food and Nutrition minor, which she'd taken as a hobby, and he'd taken because there were no more vacancies in any other classes and he'd desperately needed the credit hours. It was the start of a beautiful friendship. In their third year, they'd met Hinata at a party at one of the frat houses. She'd been terrified and tripping. They'd delivered her home. Somewhere along the way, numbers had been exchanged and well—the rest was history.

Now Naruto and Hinata were engaged to be married, hopelessly in love, and the three of them were an inseparable team.

"Well, looks can be deceiving," she declared, closing the lid of her lunch box and slipping it into her bag.

Naruto made a face. "Augh, when will you stop eating that crap?"

"It's called a salad. _And_ it's healthy!" she snapped, leaning across the table and bopping him on the head. "Hinata, would you please make him eat healthy for me?"

Hinata smiled, unsure, and pink. "Um…"

"Don't bring Hinata-chan into this!"

"Then don't mess with me!"

"Guys…"

They all smiled at each other, then Naruto burst out laughing again and Hinata's eyes got all soft. Sakura beamed at them with pride. It was a good lunch.

* * *

What Sasuke knew of hospitals, he knew from his annual check up's, and those, he avoided as best as he could. As if apologizing was not excruciating enough, there was the added agony of figuring out where, when and how to find her.

The receptionist was busy fielding calls all over the station, and his boot was tapping impatiently on the floor. After what felt like an hour, but was only a few minutes, the lady behind the desk finally turned to him. "What can I do for you?"

"I'd like make an appointment with Dr. Haruno Sakura," he stated.

The woman raised her eye brows, then consulted a digital tablet propped up on the side. She was a stern faced lady, probably in her fourties, and the way she held herself demanded respect. "Are you sure, she's the one, honey?"

"Yes."

"Then you'll have to wait a while. You can't make appointments with residents and they don't get a break until their Attending's say so. And this one will be in the OR for a while."

"Oh." He didn't know what to do. He definitely wasn't going to wait on her. Aside from the fact that his pride would take a considerable bruise, he had a company meeting to attend in an hour. This tête–à–tête was supposed to be nothing but a bland apology anyway; he might as well have a fruit basket sent in his stead. He decided to do just that. "Would she be able to receive a delivery here?"

"Sure."

"Thank you."

* * *

Sakura stared at the gorgeous fruit basket waiting for her at the Nursing Station. Behind her, Ino let out an impressed whistle. Sakura rubbed at her eyes tiredly. "Who sent it, your Grandma?"

"My grandma is dead."

"Oh. Sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all. Sakura had met Ino, her first day at KM. Ino had promptly declared them rivals. And over the years, from their rivalry had blossomed something akin to friendship. Ino was flippant, fierce and incredibly beautiful, with eyes the color of mountain mist and hair like the winter sun. Sakura loved her like the sister she'd never had.

"Who's it from?"

"No one."

"Come on!" Ino whined.

She was also incredibly nosy.

"It was misdelivered, probably," she shrugged. "Who would send out a fruit basket. No one in my family _died_."

Ino looked dubious.

"I'll send it back to the return address. Wanna come?"

"No way. Got a hot date." Ino grinned, then looked at the clock behind the Station. " _Which,_ I'll be fashionably late to," she winked. "See you later." She gave Sakura a slap on the back, and ran off.

As soon as her footsteps died, Sakura fished out the note she'd crumpled up into her Scrubs. One word, written in a neat cursive that made her want to punch a crater in the floor.

 _Apologies_ , it read, signed _U.S_. Uchiha Sasuke. Apologies, along with a fruit basket. All she saw was a fat check and a figurative slap on the face.

She sent it back to the return address.

* * *

Itachi was there, when the basket got delivered to his apartment. The once magnificent fruit it carried was wilted and sad looking. The note he'd so meticulously attached was crumpled up and carelessly tossed inside. He picked it up, smoothed it out and frowned.

Fuck you, it said in an untidy scrawl.

Itachi, who'd been reading behind his shoulder, chuckled softly. "Who?"

"The girl mother set me up with."

"Mmm."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Obviously not," he snapped. "Spit it out Itachi."

"How did it go?"

"Awful."

"Then why did you send her…that?"

Sasuke closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. "I may have—unintentionally—offended her."

Itachi didn't ask how, and Sasuke was grateful. The two of them moved to the living room. "Mother told me about this girl," said Itachi.

Sasuke threw him a wounded look. "And you let her?"

Itachi gave him half a smile. They were both silent for a while, Itachi looking intently at the TV screen and Sasuke at the note.

After a lengthy pause, Itachi said, "Sasuke?"

"Yes?"

"Do you—have you—thought about who you would marry?"

Sasuke gave him a strange look. Itachi had come out to their parents during his last year of high school. Things had not at all turned out as he'd thought they would. Itachi was the kind of person who planned ahead—he had contingency plans for contingency plans, so when Mikoto only giggled and Fugaku patted him on the back awkwardly, to say he was a tiny bit blindsided and a little shell shocked would've been an understatement. He'd only ever planned, keeping in mind the conservative side of the Uchiha.

Now, years later, he was working at the Uchiha Corp, and living downtown with his boyfriend, Deidara. Things had been strained between them.

"No," he replied. "I haven't."

"Then, please do," Itachi said courteously. He had always been impossibly polite.

"Why?"

"I—Sasuke," he sat a little straighter, "I think, that soon, Father might give you—a choice."

Sasuke raised his brow. "For?"

"A marriage."

"Oh."

"And I believe," he continued, "that if you have as little choice as you do in the matter, you should consider Mother's option."

* * *

Sasuke thought about what Itachi had told him.

On one hand it didn't matter, because no matter what happened, the bottom line was that he didn't have a choice. On the other hand, his mother's alternative wasn't exactly attractive. But he knew that if— _when_ —Fugaku sprang his ultimatum, it would be for a marriage of convenience; where convenience was the betterment of the company, and _marriage_ would become an act of refrain. He wanted neither.

What it came down to was, whose judgment he trusted most. Mother or Father. While he counted on his father to understand what life was, he knew his mother understood what love was. And his mother had always known what was best for her children.

* * *

 _Edited. 5/31/2016_


	2. Chapter 2

**Arranged**

 **Summary:** Arranged marriage in the twenty-first century might have been uncommon, but not unheard of. "Your mom's a certified lunatic, your brother's a prick and you're a creep," she grinned. "Fantastic gene pool."

 **notes:**

i) Some of you might get the wrong idea. Arranged is not about The Big Yes. It is about falling in love mostly because you don't have any other choice but to make it work.

 _ii)_ What Mikoto did in the beginning? Showing up unannounced and asking for her hand in marriage? Things like that happen all the time from where I come from.

 **xx**

 _Marriage is an outdated institution, and that love is nothing but a chemical reaction in the brain.—Meg Cabot [Boy Next Door Series]_

 **xx**

Sakura felt her hackles rise, had to take a deep calming breath before she could face yet another Uchiha. There was a striking resemblance in that family, and this one had certainly inherited the crazy beautiful of that gene pool. He was languidly sitting in the on-call room's stuffy chair, arms akimbo, looking harmless enough.

"Good evening. I'm Uchiha Itachi." He nodded his head cordially and motioned for her to sit down. She screwed her face in an expression of _not again_ , then resigned herself to another session of chemically unbalanced, well meaning, neurosis.

"Hey," she said, warily. "Just so we're clear, I'm not going to marry your cousin or brother or whatever. Neither do I want your money."

"My brother, actually," he smiled affably, then said, "Why ever would I think that?"

"I don't know," said Sakura slowly, "You tell me."

Itachi laughed good naturedly. He saw her cautious, tightly wound posture and felt the small niggle of doubt gnawing at his chest vanish. He found her exotic looking pink hair quite strange. Her forehead was…a little wide, but looked oddly proportional. But her eyes were what struck him. They were the brightest, greenest one's he'd ever seen in his life.

"You are exquisite," he intoned gallantly.

"Yeeaah, okay. You're creepy," she said, shoulders finally relaxing.

"I'm…sorry?"

"Your mom's a certified lunatic, your brother's a prick and you're a creep," she grinned. "Fantastic gene pool."

Itachi blinked slowly, then laughed. It was a soft, breathy sound, and despite the circumstances of their meeting, it sounded like a happy one.

"You want to tell me why your family's stalking me?" she asked casually, taking off her lab coat and throwing it onto the bunk, then flopping down to face him.

"Yes, well," he grimaced. "I'm afraid I'm following in my mother's footsteps—"

"Whoa," she laughed, not without humor. "Stop right there."

"Listen to me, Sakura," he said, doing a complete one eighty, face suddenly void of emotion.

"Uhh…"

"You're a good girl. A talented girl," he said, leaning forward in the chair, looking into her eyes as if trying to see into her soul. "And given the right circumstances, the right funding, the right people backing you, you can go a long ways."

A deep-seated scowl etched its way onto Sakura's face, accompanied by a decidedly homicidal glint in her eyes. "Did you just try to bribe me?"

"No," he replied, calm as the night sky, but she could hear the thunder in the quiet of his tone. "I prefer to call it quid pro quo. Something for something." There was a strange enigmatic gleam in his eyes, now.

Uchiha Itachi—who had just moments before seemed debonair, charming and refined, now seemed like an unmitigated snake. Sakura grappled with the anger burning in her veins. "And what is it that you want from me?"

"I just want you to marry my brother, make him happy."

" _Just_ , that?" she asked, her voice mocking, "Why don't I throw falling hopelessly in love in there and we'll have a bargain, huh?"

"I wouldn't object at all."

"What is _wrong_ with you people?!" she cried, groping around helplessly in her mind for words adequate enough to describe the insanity of this clan. "Why me? There are billions of girls out there who'd LOVE to be in your creepy little family! Just leave me alone!"

"That is exactly why we want you. Because you don't want anything to do with us."

"That's crazy and you're insane."

"So I've heard," he noted wryly, "But it is not a bad bargain I offer. Where are you going to work after your Residency?"

"I haven't thought yet—"

"How many student loans do you still have to pay?"

She didn't reply.

"Do you always want to put maximum hours for a minimum wage?"

"My job is rewarding enough."

"I'm sure it is. As well as tedious and utterly pointless. Now imagine this," he said, his already ram-rod posture straightening impossibly, "A fellowship at Senju Memorial along with an unlimited funding for whatever you decide your research should be," he stopped, make sure he was looking directly into her eyes, "And of course, learning internship under Tsunade Senju, herself."

The notion hit her like a ton of bricks, and suddenly, all the air whooshed out of her lungs. Tsunade Senju. He was bribing her with Tsunade Senju; who'se work in cellular regeneration was the pinnacle of scientific miracles. Anyone in their right mind would've killed for that opportunity. Itachi smiled kindly, and some primal part of her brain wanted to rip his teeth out.

"Think about it." He stood up, collecting his coat from the back of the chair, then gave her one, last searching look. "And if you make up your mind, Sasuke will be waiting for you at The Arcadian, in two days. Breakfast, eight on the dot."

 **xx**

Hinata wound an arm around Sakura's shoulder while Naruto bristled on the other side. Ino looked contemplative.

"You aren't considering it, Sakura-chan?" he asked angrily. "Please tell me you aren't!"

Sakura rubbed her temples and let out an aggravated noise.

"Shut up, Naruto," Ino snapped.

Naruto scowled. " _You_ , shut up!" He had never quite gotten over the tragic first year of Ino getting to know Sakura. He still cringed when she called her Billboard Brow.

"He's a manipulative bastard!" he yelled, knocking a fist on the table, blue eyes shining with fervor. "Also, you said this Sasuke guy's a prick! _No_ , Sakura-chan!"

Hinata put her other hand on his clenched fist, and his shoulders sagged a little.

"Listen, Sakura," Ino started, "let's say he's a jerk and a snake and a creep and other than being great to look at, he has virtually no redeeming qualities."

"Yes—" Naruto nodded his head fervently, and Ino shot him a dangerous look.

"But still," she continued, "he's a powerful man."

" _No_!" Naruto leaned forward, eyes wide and frantic. "No, Sakura-chan!"

Sakura patted his head affectionately. It wasn't often, when Naruto was at a loss for words. "What do you think, Hinata?"

Even though she'd overcome her innate shyness for the most part, it still resurfaced now and then. She became reticent and bashful, and could never meet anyone's eyes. Sakura felt bad for putting her in an uncomfortable situation.

"I think," she said softly, "that you should do what you think is best for you."

"I _know_ ," Sakura whined, "but _what_ is best for me?"

"Whatever's important to you."

 **xx**

Uchiha Itachi was a manipulative bastard. Somehow, she noted acerbically, he had known exactly where to hit.

What was the most important thing in her life, she asked herself. Her parents, she thought. And after that, her career. Ever since she had been old enough to understand the meaning of success, she had aspired to it. Being the best at whatever she tried, it had become somewhat of a no-brainer. She remembered winning an art completion once, when she was very young, a cooking competition in fourth grade. She was versatile, and very proud of it.

Exploring the human body, creating new ways to fix the internal workings of it, had always been a rush. The sight of a cleanly cut body, the blood inside it, it made her heart vibrate. And as always, she had wanted to be the best, still wanted to be the best.

But what was being offered here, and what was being asked in return, were completely out of proportion. They were asking for her entire life, in return for what?

A better one, a small part of her brain reasoned.

Whenever she had envisioned a future, she had always visualized a bright spotlight, a cheering crowd and the cool, heavy weight of the Lasker shield in her hands. Never had she imagined a family—a husband. She had never, she thought clinically, dreamed of lazy Sunday mornings and a warm tangle of limbs.

For some reason, even she herself couldn't fathom, love, had never been in her life itinerary. People said love was the best feeling, _but_ , she thought, finding a toilet when you're having diarrhea was probably better.

 **xx**

The morning was impossibly bright, the birds were inarguably loud and his mood was unfathomably black. He was twenty-seven years old, he thought fretfully, and he was proposing to the crazy bitch on wheels he didn't even like.

"Hey," she plopped down in the seat opposite to him, then set down her bag and peered at him. He looked back calmly, noticed how she was more confident this time. In fact, she bore herself proudly, with a firm, almost haughty demeanor. She motioned the waiter over, "An Orange Creamsicle frappuccino."

He made a face. "Really?"

Those dark eyes taunted her, and Sakura felt heat rise to her cheeks. "Yes, well, not everyone takes their coffee to match their soul—bitter and black."

They sat there, staring at each other in extreme contempt as the air around them started cracking under the intense pressure of barely repressed resentment.

Then Sakura exhaled sharply and slanted a careful look at him. "Look, there's no graceful way of saying this," she started, "so, um, sure, let's get married."

As soon as her words sunk in, a blush started burning itself into Sasuke's dazed features. She smirked at his flustered countenance, and thanked the waiter as he set down her frap. She took a dainty sip. "Of course, there are certain conditions," she continued, "so let's hash them out, ok?"

He scoffed. "You want _more_ than what is being offered already?"

She leveled him a stony look. She'd only ever met him once, but was figuring out that he must have a habit of hiding his discomfort under layers of frigidity.

"Yes, Sasuke," she said, semi-civil and ominous. "But first of all, I want to know why _you_ agreed to this."

He didn't want to give her the satisfaction of answering, but even he was willing to admit that would've been petty and childish, and if they were going to be spending the rest of their lives together, he figured the least he could do was be polite. "I think you might be the lesser of the two evils."

She blinked, then leaned back in her chair, a curious expression on her face. "Care to elaborate?"

Sasuke felt the ridiculousness of the situation, the utter hare-brained, half-baked reasoning behind his decision and heat seared up his neck, all the way up his ears. "None of your business," he snapped.

Sakura cast a heavy glower in her direction. "It is if you're going to be my _husband_ ," she retorted. "Do you understand the meaning of that word, Sasuke?"

A muscle twitched in his jaw and he could feel the beginnings of a migraine throbbing in his right eye.

"It means, that for better or for worse," she said, "you're going to have to spend the rest of your life with me."

There was a loaded pause, where Sasuke considered storming off, but then she opened her mouth again.

"I don't know about you," she said, "but I've thought about this a lot, and if I'm going to do this, I need to at least understand why _you're_ doing this."

He was obstinate, sometimes even pig-headed, but he understood that there was a time and a place for everything. And this was not it. So he glared at her formidably. "I—," he started, stopped, huffed out an irritated breath. "You are the only option that I have which isn't my family indirectly controlling my fate." And the truth of those words punched him in the gut. It wasn't an asinine decision, he thought. He was making the only choice he could make that didn't cage him in. If he married one of the girl's Fugaku picked out for him, then he knew that with that marriage, would come an expectation, a burden, a presumption that what he had, was, for and would always be in the name of Uchiha. Not Sasuke. Just Uchiha.

But with this—marrying this girl—it gave him a liberty—no matter how small it may have been, it was still a small relief. It would give him the time and the space needed to prove his worth, to be the person he knew he was capable of being. And given his choices, he would take what he could.

The relief he felt after saying that was like a burden being lifted off his shoulders. Acceptance was a strong thing, he could feel it now. Sasuke didn't like indecision. Indecision was a sign of weakness. Indecision meant you were betraying your own convictions. It was simply unacceptable. As all the doubts of the past few days suddenly seeped out of him, he felt his insides unwind for the first time in days. His gaze was steady on hers now, and judging by the look on her face, she could tell.

"Okay," she nodded. She wasn't satisfied with his answer, he could tell, but she didn't say anything. And he was grateful for that.

"Ground rules?" he asked.

She gave him half a smile, then fished out a pen from her purse, took a napkin and started. "First off," she said, scrawling a slanted 1, "If you ever— _ever_ —cheat on me," here she gave him an intense, no-nonsense glare, "I will rip your nut-sack off," she said lowly, a terrifying smirk twisting her bright features into something dark and dangerous.

The side of his mouth quirked into a small, unintentional smile. "And if _you_ ever cheat on me?"

"I would never," she said, "But just in case, you can make it so that I could never work as a doctor again. Fair?"

"…Fair," he agreed grudgingly.

"Second. If you suck at sex, then you're going to pay for all the battery operated boyfriends I would require for the rest of my life. Also, I won't sleep with you unless absolutely necessary—and by that I mean when we have to sprout a spawn from your demon seed."

"I promise you, it won't come to that," he assured, looking everywhere but at her.

"Every guy says that," she grinned, then sobered up and looked him straight in the eye, "which leads me to…if you ever force yourself on me, Uchiha, I will castrate you with a blunt knife, crush your bones to very fine dust and bathe in your blood."

He was taken aback by the gravity in her tone, slightly offended but understanding. "I would die a thousand painful deaths, before it comes to that."

She nodded once. "I want you to know that I'm trusting you with my life, here. Don't screw with it."

"Never."

"Okay," she said. "Now, let's talk children."

"You've thought about this a lot, haven't you?" he asked, reluctantly impressed.

"Of course," she admonished, "Like I said, this is my _life_ , here."

"Okay," he nodded politely.

"Anyway," she continued, "I don't want any kids, yet."

"Agreed."

"But when the time is right," she said, leaning forward, "I think one would be enough, with an option for two?"

He sat back, contemplative, "Two, with an option for three," he negotiated.

"You're just saying that to piss me off, aren't you?" she smirked.

"No."

She cocked her head, birdlike. "We shall see, then," she said pleasantly, "Oh, and if you don't love our kids, or try to hurt them in any way, there would be bloodshed."

"Same."

"Agreed," she said, slamming the pen on their table and taking a long sip of her drink. "Put it in a contract, then. And send me a copy."

"That's it?" he asked, "What about _my_ conditions?"

"Aw," she laughed, amused, "Are you leaving everything constant that you hold dear in your life, and marrying a complete stranger?"

Something in her tone made him feel like a cranky grandfather. "Yes," he bit out.

She gave him a thoughtful look, then shrugged. "What do you want?"

He said nothing and she grinned at him. "You just said that to pick a fight, didn't you? Cute."

"Don't be annoying," he snapped impatiently.

She inclined her head and her cheek came to rest in the palm of his hand. "Aw, are you going to hiss and bare your kitty claws at me?" he cooed in a mocking tone.

Sasuke immediately dug into his pocket for an Asprin. He suddenly realized that this woman was so fucking annoying he didn't know if he could make it through his life without large doses of horse tranquilizer.

 **xx**

Her parents looked at her as if she's sprouted antlers.

"Are you sure about this, honey?" her mother asked cautiously.

She shrugged. "Nope. But it's a risk I'm willing to take."

She knew her parents had long since been waiting for her to find a…prince charming, she thought with distaste. They were the kind of people who believed in silly things like, grand gestures, romantic strolls on the beach, watching the sunset together. She didn't begrudge them their beliefs but she never shared in them either.

"I just want you to know, Sakura-chan," her father said, his usually perky moustache drooping, "the world is a jigsaw puzzle. And somewhere there's a fit for you."

"Thank you, Daddy," she smiled, a warm bubble of love rising in her chest. "That's very sweet and very cliché."

Kizashi's shoulders wilted and Sakura felt her heart give a little.

"I promise you, it's going to be alright, okay?"

It didn't look like they believed her, but they didn't say anything else, so neither did she.

 **xx**

Mikoto's quiet, Sasuke suspected, was the calm before the storm. Because when he explained the situation, she didn't jump for joy, nor did she tear up. Neither did she subject him to one of her formidable death hugs. Instead, she smiled and sat him down, her eyes glazed with worry.

"I don't want you to give up your pride to make me happy, Sasuke-kun," she said. "I want you to be proud and then make me happy. Don't kill your pride to do that. It hurts me just as much as it hurts you."

Sasuke gave her hand a reassuring pat on the hand, and said, "Of course mother."

"Good," she smiled.

"Oh, and," she made a slight face, "your friends called."

 **xx**

When Uchiha Mikoto frowned upon something as severely as she'd frowned when she said 'your friends', Sasuke immediately figured out who it might have been. There were close to none people on this planet his mother wasn't obnoxiously kind to, and his old pal's Suigetsu and Karin were the entirety of them. He wasn't as much of a saint as his mother pretended he was. There had been a distinct…stint of rebellion in his teen years, that neither he, nor his family were very fond of.

Sure enough, as soon as he entered his apartment, there they were; Suigetsu sprawled out on his sleek, low-rise, high-end, very expensive leather couch, a small bundle clutched to his chest like a treasure. Karin was rooting around in his fridge.

"Hey, man," said Suigetsu, carefully extracting an arm and waving at him.

Karin glowered. "Careful, or she'll wake up."

Sasuke's rebellion may or may not have included a side dash of gang activity. He'd met Suigetsu and Karin in the sad looking borough that was ruled by The Snake, at that time. He'd made sure to get them out along with himself. It was a dysfunctional friendship, but one he'd come to rely on over the years.

"Shut up," Suigetsu whispered across the room, "You're the one who'll wake her up." Then comically turned his face this way and that to make sure the small baby in his arms hadn't woken up.

If their friendship had been dysfunctional, then the relationship between Suigetsu and Karin could have given the most socially impaired person heebie-jeebies. It was based on pure, demonic hatred; they fought like rabid dogs, liked to tear each other down, and Karin might or might not have had a crush on Sasuke. But somewhere along the way, things had changed; they still fought like crazy, but Sasuke could feel the well-worn habitual instinct behind those words; neither of them hurt.

Then about two years ago, Karin showed up at his apartment, chin wobbling and eyes wet with unshed tears. She'd hurled herself into his chest and clung on like a leech. A little maneuvering—and a tiny bit of manipulation that Sasuke was not proud of later—they'd made up. A year after they had become the proud parents of Hana Himitsu-Hozuki.

Despite Suigetsu's incessant and sometimes ill perceived tries, Karin still hadn't agreed to married him. He'd, since then, made it his personal mission in life to convince her otherwise.

Anyone with two eyes and a semi-functional brain could tell the two of them were hopelessly in love—minus the four inch layer of dysfunction. And Sasuke had no intention of dealing with it right then.

"Go away," he said, tiredly.

"You go away," snapped Karin.

"This is my home," he grit out.

There was a loud clang and a whole carton of milk was spilled out of the stainless steel pan that Sasuke, feeling slowly dawning horror, used to fry spaghetti. At that same moment, Hana woke up with a resounding wail and Suigetsu let out a string of curses that make Karin howl, "My _daughteeeeer_ ," almost like a banshee.

Sasuke let his body lean against the door and heaved a helpless sigh and resigned himself to a night of endless, horrifying fiasco's.

 **xx**

"You bih'!"

"What was that shit-face?" Karin asked, almost sweetly. She had Suigetsu's cheek pinched tightly between the fingers and thumb of her right hand while she cradled, Hana, who was being bounced reassuringly on her hip, with her left.

"I sai' you bih'—OW!" Karin was twisting his cheek just so, so that every once in a while he would howl out a painful protest.

Despite his foul mouthed protests, Sasuke who was cleaning the mess in the kitchen, noticed that Suigetsu wasn't exactly bargaining hard to get out of her hands either. Neither could he ignore the hypocrisy of Karin cussing in the presence of their daughter, herself.

"Listen to me, Suigetsu," said Karin, voice brimming with barely repressed rage, "You use that foul mouth in front of her and I'll castrate you with a dull cheese grater, make testicle fondue and have rabid dogs for a tasting party with your severed genitals as the main course. Understand?"

On the other side of the apartment Sasuke felt himself blanch a little. On his side, Suigetsu merely nodded his head, and Sasuke figured that this might have been a routine occurrence in their household. He hoped to Kami, these two figured their shit out before that child grew up.

"Yo, Sasuke," Suigetsu called out.

"What?"

"C'mere."

Sasuke frowned at the easy command but went into the lounge anyway. Karin abruptly thrust Hana in his arms and stunned speechless, he held on gingerly. The baby gurgled in his arms, and he had a flashback of Sakura discussing _their_ future children with him. He felt himself balk.

"Now," said Karin, "What's all this non-sense with this marriage thing."

Sasuke understood now, that putting Hana in his arms was a carful strategy, so that he couldn't run away, or ignore this conversation. He could've put the baby on the couch, but wasn't sure of the right way to do so. So he held on and gave them an almost wounded look, grudgingly respectful.

"Who told you?" he asked.

"Itachi."

"You talk to Itachi?" he asked, deadpan and not quite astounded but close.

"Yeah…?"

"Since when?"

"Not the point, here," said Suigetsu. Hana was squirming in his arms and Suigetsu was getting antsy.

"Spill," said Karin, her voice uncharacteristically commanding, and Sasuke felt himself speak, "It's just…I'm marrying her."

"We _know_. But do you want to?" Karin asked, knowing full well that Sasuke was too protective of his heart to ever allow himself to open up and possibly get hurt.

"Yes," he said, but both Karin and Suigetsu suspected that he was being stubborn and unnecessarily prideful. They let it go.

"Sasuke," Karin starts, "Just make sure you…don't break this girl's heart."

"Believe me," he said, smile thin and sharp as knife, "There won't be anything to break."

 **xx**

 _tbc_


	3. Chapter 3

**Arranged**

 **Summary:** Arranged marriage in the twenty-first century might have been uncommon, but not unheard of. "What an utterly chauvinistic supposition to make," she berated, laughing. "Why do you assume that I can cook?"

 **notes:**

i) Regale me with the stories of your love?

ii) Once again, any knowledge I have of any medical issue comes from watching grey's anatomy.

 **xx**

 _A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person._

 _Germaine Greer_

 **xx**

"'Sup," Sakura nodded as she got in the car.

Sasuke grimaced and didn't answer.

It was meet-the-parent's day and after a lot of haggling and a fair amount of bantering later, they'd opted he pick her up from the hospital at a shift's end.

As Sasuke stared unblinkingly through the windshield, Sakura took out her phone and started playing Candy Crush. The silence was complete, absolute and studded with the sulky undertone of two people who were in intense mutual dislike with each other.

Intense mutual dislike, Sakura thought, faintly amused. Like a psychological disorder. After a long ride of surly, discontented, almost tranquility they entered a gated community and Sakura put her phone away and sat up a little straighter. The houses here were large estates with sprawling lush lawns and intricate landscaping preceding the actual house. The streets were lined with decadent trees and Sakura felt a little tug of pleasure as the sun played peek-a-boo amidst the branches as they moved. It was a childlike marvel that she hadn't felt in quite a while.

They stopped outside a heavy-walled property and waited for the gate to open. Half a minute later, it did and Sasuke drove in. It was a long, tree-lined driveway and her view of the house was obscured by the profusion of lush plants suspended from macramé hangers and tiffany lamps hanging beneath stained glass inlaid in intricate light poles.

"Wow," she breathed, then turned to Sasuke, whose lips were already quirked in an unwanted smile. "Nice," she nodded grudgingly. "Must've been a cool place to grow up."

"Thank you," he said politely, "It was."

He pulled up in an enormous, stereotypical round driveway with a tall, well loved and looked after oak in the middle. She smiled, remembering the mango tree in her own backyard and walked up to the trunk. "Did you ever climb?"

Sasuke took off his aviators and followed her. "No."

Her smile turned sharp as she turned around. "Let me guess," she goaded, "you were too prissy, right?"

Sasuke's lip pulled down into a frown. "No," he said sharply, "It just never occurred to us."

She shrugged. "What kid doesn't have an inherent urge to climb stuff?" she asked.

"The good, well-mannered kind," he answered.

"Oh please," she smirked. "I bet you suck at it."

Sasuke, who'd always held himself in honorary Boy Scout regard, thought how hard it might be to climb tree's. Not too much, he concluded, examining the trunk carefully. "No," he said, "I won't."

"You're on," said Sakura. She then took off her coat, threw it at him and turned around to climb. Her feet were sure on the trunk, finding foot holds and bumps to prop herself up. Half a minute later she was in the lowest branch looking down at him.

"Slow poke," she called out tauntingly.

Irritated, Sasuke threw her coat down—"Asshole!" she cried from up above—and put his foot on a bump Sakura had used to propel herself up. His shoes, which were perfectly appropriate for corporate meetings, abruptly gave and slipped on the bark. Slipping and sliding, he made it half-way up, then his foot caught on a scrapped holding and he slid all the way down in one smooth fall.

"You alright?" Sakura called out from above.

He shot her an aggrieved glare, which turned squinty in the sun. There was a sharp pain on his fore arm. He was just about to fold his sleeve up, when Sakura, who'd promptly climbed down, caught his arm and folded it up for him. Her face was void of humor and her eyes were clinical.

There was a long, angry red line of a cut that she examined carefully. Sasuke looked at her face and felt an unmitigated stab of irritation. "This is your fault," she snapped.

She was nonplussed. "Stop being a baby," she said, "It's just a cut. It'll scab over by tonight."

He was about to tell her what else was going to scab over tonight but then his mother appeared on the porch.

"Sasuke-kun!" she cried, "Sakura-chan! Is everything alright?"

"Perfectly," she replied, smiling, but Mikoto was already crouched down beside him. "Oh, honey," she said, "Are you going to be alright?"

Beside her, Sakura looked on incredulously; it wasn't everyday that she got to watch a grown man being pampered by his mother.

"Yes," he said, and got up, shaking his sleeve down to cover it up. Mikoto gave him a worried look, then ushered them in. Sakura picked up her coat, dusted it off, and followed. From the corner of his eye he gave her an appraising look and decided that his father might have a bone to pick with his mother tonight.

Sakura squirmed in her knee-length, form-fitting, sleeveless dress. The V of the neck scooped too low for her comfort, and the flat pumps on her feet made her feel too tiny. Sasuke's not so discreet clinical assessment of her body made her hackles rise.

Trying to tamp down the sudden urge to strangle him, she tried to keep a tight rein on her anger and concentrated on her surroundings. The outside had been underrated enough that she didn't remember being overwhelmed and so was the inside.

Clearly, Mikoto had classy taste; the interior had all the trappings of overbearing Baroque, except without being oppressive. The colors were rich, the light was gold, and everything had an antique look about it without being grotesquely loud.

As she entered the well-lit, softly golden themed living room, she understood why Mikoto overcompensated love for her children in a single glance.

On one side of the room, her parents sat on an uncomfortable looking couch, looking intimidated and conspicuous.

On the other sat Itachi with a stern-faced, grumpy looking man with graying hair.

"They're here," Mikoto announced cheerfully.

Sakura's parents looked at her with wide, pleading eyes, Itachi smiled and Uchiha Fugaku hummed, keeping his posture overly stiff as he set his tea-cup back down, an air of self-believed omniscience about him that you just had to roll your eyes at. Age lines tugged below his eyes. He needed sleep. No, Sakura thought, he needed more than sleep. He needed a life time of rest.

Awkward greetings were exchanged, and polite small talk ensued.

"Have you thought of a specialization?" Fukagu asked, surprising her.

She shrugged. "Not yet. I'm still trying out new stuff."

He nodded.

A long, tense silence ensued where no one spoke. Thankfully, dinner was announced.

 **xx**

Sasuke had had enough interactions with Sakura to know that her skin ran the gamut from a translucent white to deep rose, depending on whether she was angry, tired or excited. Right now, her face was a perfect paisley pink, which meant she was anxious.

The first course was laid down. Sasuke sat all the way at the tail end of the table with Sakura on one side and Itachi on the other. He could feel his Father's eyes, subtle and discreet, waiting and watching; judging. He had been on the receiving end of that gaze more times than he could count.

"Sakura," Fugaku said crisply, as the table was being cleared for the second course, patting his mouth with a napkin. "What can you cook?"

At his side, Sakura almost choked on the hearty Chianti wine she was sipping from a glass. "What an utterly chauvinistic supposition to make," she berated, laughing. "Why do you assume that I can cook?"

Fugaku regarded her with exaggerated gravity. "Because you are a woman, of course."

"Are—are you serious?" she sputtered. She stared at him in speechless disbelief, half-convinced that he was deliberately goading her. "It may surprise you to hear this, but not all women are born with a burning desire to chop onions and grate cheese."

"My wife," he replied, "likes to chop onions and grate cheese."

Sakura regarded him with faint impatience. "So does my father," she gestured to Kizashi, who looked proud.

Fugaku gave her an oblique look, but didn't answer.

"Now," she said, "I could go ahead and assume that you're some corporate honcho who pisses on dreams and cripples souls," said Sakura, smile almost mocking, "But since I don't _know_ you, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and let it go."

Time came to a roaring stop. Sasuke felt like his father would've said something, except…he was kind of speechless.

Sasuke, on the other hand was coming to realize that Sakura was the kind of person who didn't take crap from anyone. If she felt insulted, she talked back. If she felt belittled, she tore you a new one.

In his heart of hearts, Sasuke felt a small kernel of grudging admiration unfurl. She had managed to do what neither he nor his brother had never dared; strike his father inarticulate.

 **xx**

Later that night, in the privacy of their room, Mikoto said to Fugaku, "Wasn't she magnificent?"

And Fugaku stared at the jug of water on the side table with the same enthusiasm as if he were looking at a dead skunk. "She was."

 **xx**

"It was…unnerving."

"How so?"

"It's weird," said Sakura, balancing the phone between her shoulder and ear while looking at the ER door, "watching a grown man sulk all night."

Ino laughed. It was a warm, bubbly, happy laugh and it made Sakura feel good. "If I were into girls," she said, "I'd have married you looong ago, Ino-chan."

"I'm flattered," said Ino, and Sakura could hear the smile in her voice, "but I'm not into huge foreheads."

"Vain."

"Perfectionist," Ino retorted. "So what else did you do?"

"We set the engagement date," replied Sakura.

Ino screeched loud enough for all dead emperors of China to hear and Sakura had to hold the phone away from her ear. When she put it back Ino was screaming, "…when, when, when?"

"Three weeks."

"Whoa!" Ino breathed, "That's—like… _soon_!"

"Yeah," said Sakura, feeling a swarm of butterflies in her stomach.

"The wedding?"

"Four months. At the end of July."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"Nervous?"

"How could I not be?"

"Wow," Ino sighed, "You're getting married."

Sakura's stomach did a nervous flip. "Yes, Ino," she said, apprehensive now, "I am."

"Did you tell Naruto and Hinata?"

"Yes," Sakura sighed, feeling world weary, "He's not speaking to me."

"I can beat him up for you," Ino offered immediately.

"No thanks," Sakura smiled, "He'll come around."

"How did—" Ino started, but Sakura cut her off. "Gotta run, Ino," she said, pulling out a fresh contamination gown, "Emergency." She didn't wait for a reply and threw the phone at the station. An ambulance had just pulled up.

 **xx**

She met Sasuke at a public park the next day. She didn't exactly like him, but she didn't hate him with the burning intensity of a thousand scorching suns anymore, either.

"Did you get it?" she asked as she slid down on the bench beside him.

Solemnly, he handed her the cup of coffee.

"Thanks, honey," she said mockingly. "How's your boo-boo?"

"God, you're annoying," he said, almost admiringly.

"Does that turn you on?" she asked, completely nonchalant.

Sasuke, felt a blush sear his cheeks. " _No_." He managed, somehow, to jam more indignation into that one words than other people would have in a whole speech.

"You're a giant prude aren't you?" she laughed. "Please don't tell me you're a virgin."

"Why would you think that?" he asked, flustered.

"Because," she said, taking a long sip of her drink and looking at him over the cup with crinkled eyes, "The big man up there doesn't make them any more anal than you."

"Fuck you," he said gravely.

"All in due time, Pookey Bear," she teased.

"Please, stop," he pleaded, and she let out a small but hearty laugh. When he finally looked at her, she was looking at him with a smile on her face, her eyes shining with it. It was a warm smile—nothing like the pointed, razor sharp leers she'd subjected him to, so far. He felt an uneasy tug in the vicinity of his chest and swallowed twice to ease it.

"So," she said finally, "Why'd you ask me out?"

"I was—asked to court you," he said hesitatingly.

"Oh," she replied, that sparkle in her eye suddenly snuffing out. "No need," she said, almost flippantly. "We're way past that."

"We aren't," he said, voice sepulchral.

She gave him a dubious look. "Aaand you'd like to…what? Change that?"

"A little," he muttered, fidgeting uncomfortably.

"Then why do you sound like you're about to have a root canal?" she asked in a careful voice.

"It—," he started, then stopped. He looked a little lost for words and Sakura felt a pull of pity in a very deep, dark corner of her heart.

"Then," she said, almost kindly, "I'll tell you this; if someone asked me who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, I would've told them: with someone who understood that I'm not perfect."

"I do not expect you to be," he said graciously.

The smile she flashed him was almost affectionate. "Also," she said, teasingly, "I reaaaaally don't like you."

"Duly noted." This time, he gave her half a smirk.

 **xx**

Two days before the engagement Sakura finally broke down in a fit of helpless despair. Naruto still wasn't talking to her and no matter how many messages she left for him, no matter how many texts she sent him and no matter how much Hinata coaxed him, he still wasn't willing to come around.

Brimming with agitation and an incredible sense of foreboding, she siced Ino on him and called Sasuke.

"What is it?" he asked, wary.

"I just realized that I might be crazy in love with you," she answered, not being able to resist. She could hear his longsuffering sigh all the way to her end and coupled with the Naruto-shaped hole in her life right then, it made a lump form in her throat. A breath shuddered out of her and she could feel the soft, silky sheen of tears behind her eyes.

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then, "Are you crying?"

An unexpected quiver wracked her chest and tears started falling down her cheeks. "No," she said in a thick, wet voice, wiping the tears away with her free hand.

"What's wrong?" breathed Sasuke on the other, his voice tinged with alarm.

"Will you—would you," she said haltingly, trying to tamp down the tears, "My friend—my best friend isn't talking to me because I'm marrying you," she finally managed to say.

"Oh," he replied, and she could feel the wary distrust in his tone.

"He thinks I'm making the biggest mistake of my life," she explained.

He didn't say anything and she felt her heart sink. "Do you think the same?"

"I don't know," he answered, his voice so honest that she felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Neither do I," she said, feeling her heart ease a little. "Would you—mind meeting hi—them?"

If he would have wanted, he could've let her off in the worst way imaginable. But he said, "Okay." And in the quiet of his voice, Sakura found a small bit of solace.

 **xx**

He was a little late, but considering the short notice of her request, Sakura was just grateful he showed up. "Ichiraku?" he asked flatly, looking at the sign dubiously.

"It was the only place Ino could bring him without looking suspicious."

He gave her a contemplative look from the corner of his eye. "An old flame?"

Sakura cocked her face at him, startled. "The only flame between Naruto and I is the one I will set him on fire with if he keeps insisting on being an asshole."

They went inside and Sakura immediately spotted Naruto's bright golden head of hair. Ino waved at them from across the room and she led Sasuke to the table. Naruto, who'd been slurping his noodles as if saving them from a certain death, looked up and promptly choked on the broth. Hinata had to pound him on the back to get his windpipe to clear.

"Sorry we're late," Sasuke said with a curt nod as he pulled out a chair a motioned for Sakura to sit in. She wondered if the chivalry was inbred or just a one time thing.

Ino's mouth had dropped open at her first good glimpse of Sasuke. He wore jeans and a dark blazer with an open-necked shirt. Objectively, Sakura knew what she saw; the tall, dark, whatever-ness; the gorgeous face, the sexy, lean, body that was custom-made for all kinds of sin—who cared? The only thing concerning her right then was Naruto and his sparkly eyed glare.

"Sakura-chan," he hissed accusingly, and gave Ino and Hinata a wounded look that would've given any puppy a serious run for its money. His eyes, usually brimming with a merry glow were shooting proverbial darts of angry accusation.

"Naruto," she started, but he held up a hand to stop her.

Instead, he directed his gaze at Sasuke. "Are you the asshole she's signing away her life to?"

A short moment of dead silence hung over the table as one pair of bright blue, angry, twinkling eyes stared back at a pair of dark, narrowed, decidedly homicidal eyes.

" _She_ , is her own person," said Sasuke with polite disdain. "She makes her own choices. I only gave her an opportunity. She was smart enough to take it."

Naruto bristled. He'd done his research; and not just of the internet variety. Most people would only think that behind his handsome façade was a trail or broken hearts and shattered marital aspirations that would make any sensible person with an unmarried female relation shudder. But Naruto knew that behind his flawless, pristine and much publicized rapport was a sealed file with a legit criminal record. He was the last man he wanted his beloved Sakura-chan to show interest in.

Hinata put a calming hand on his forearm. Her eyes flitted nervously between the two men and off in the distance, Ino swore she heard a snake rattle. He put his hand on top of hers and squeezed reassuringly.

"You certainly have an inflamed case of 'you're-full-of yourself!" Naruto shot angrily.

"Oh, God," said Sakura, rolling her eyes in frustration. "Naruto, please stop being dramatic."

"I—I'm _not_!" he sputtered.

"You are!" she shot back. "Why can't you just be happy for me?"

"Because," he argued, "When you marry someone, it should be because you _love_ them!" His eyes flitted to Hinata and his mouth curved at the corner in the barest hint of a smile. She smiled back and for the first time in days, Naruto turned and looked directly into Sakura's eyes. "It should be because you've met someone who would sweep you off your feet!"

"Oh, Naruto." Sakura sighed, eyes fierce and sure. "I don't _want_ to meet someone who'd sweep me off my feet," she said, "because one, that would hurt. And two—that would mean I'm clumsy."

Ino giggled and Naruto shot her a dirty look and looked at Hinata pleadingly.

"Sakura-chan," said Hinata softly, "Won't you please reconsider?"

Surprised by the earnest entreaty in her voice, Sakura looked on, kind of speechless. But apparently, Sasuke had had enough. "She's made up her mind already," he snapped, "It would do you well to accept her decision, dead last," he said, eyes affixed on Naruto.

Sakura opened her mouth, fully intending to cut Sasuke down to size, but to everyone's utmost surprise, it was Hinata who spoke up.

"Isn't it extremely presumptuous of you, to answer on her behalf?" she asked almost icily. Her once frowning eyes held Sasuke's in a steady stare.

Everyone knew that it was notoriously difficult to get Hinata pissed off, but Sasuke seemed to have a penchant for achieving the nearly impossible.

Perched on the comfortable chair, Hinata looked like a demented pixie about to unleash holy hell. Her hair was pulled back sharply, her eyes a bright, terrifying silver. A thin slash formed on her lips. Her fingers curled on the table cloth like razor sharp claws ready to dig in.

Ino, Sakura and Naruto gave each other a three way worried glance. Sasuke didn't seem to see the proverbial pit he was digging himself into. "Isn't that what you lot are doing already?" he drawled sarcastically.

"We are her friends. We care."

"She's an adult. She gets to make her own choices."

"Okay, people," Sakura interrupted, "All of you need to stop. Now."

Suddenly losing all her steam, Hinata looked like a Chihuahua who'd been barking at a pit bull and just realized there was no car window between them. Naruto held on to her hand tightly.

Everyone looked at Sakura expectantly.

"I am fully aware that this man," she gestured to Sasuke, "is a prude, a workaholic, an uptight ass and a person who likes to be in charge all the time," she continued to three sets of disbelieving eyes, "but rest assured, if he wrongs me in any way I would throw him out on the streets, set him on fire and make sure no one even spits on him," she concluded affably.

"…Your insolence teeters on the brink of endearing," said Sasuke, face pinched in distress.

Naruto stared back at them, his expression sour, as though he'd just swallowed five lemons consecutively. "Has he told you about his stint in the local gang?" he asked quietly.

Sasuke, who'd always had to struggle with a short fuse felt a sudden, burning desire to strangle Naruto. A deep tic formed in his brow, making his face hurt as he attempted to rein in his irritation. There was no reply he could form, only the harsh grinding of teeth and a menacing aura that Naruto seemed to be naturally impervious to. He was so busy plotting unsuspecting murder that it surprised him when Sakura put her hand on his thigh under the table.

"Naruto," she said, and the stillness in her voice was like the calm before the storm. "Why would you know that?"

Naruto cast his eyes away.

Sakura heaved a disappointed sigh. "This was a mistake," she muttered down at the table. "I'm getting engaged in two days," she told the table at large, "and I would like all of you to be there."

Then she got up and said, "C'mon Sasuke," and walked out of the restaurant.

"That went well," said Ino, who'd kept her mouth shut the entire conversation. Now she leaned forward and fixed Sasuke with a smile like the whole sky had cracked open and poured sunlight on the world. "Welcome to the family," she said, "Also, I would like you to know that if you ever hurt Sakura, your face would have a very close encounter with my hand—most probably of the bitch-slap variety."

"You're all insane," said Sasuke, eyeing the ensemble at the table with barely restrained anger, wariness and distrust.

"We'll see you at the party," Ino waved him off with the breezy assurance.

 **xx**

He found Sakura leaning on the side of his car.

"I'm sorry," she said, as soon as he was within hearing range. "Naruto has poor impulse control, and he's too protective for his own good."

He regarded her silently for a moment. She looked genuinely contrite, but in that moment, his pride was immoveable. "He had no right."

"No," said Sakura, "he didn't." She was beginning to discover that Sasuke was the kind of person who carried around tension like responsibility. She felt bad, taking in the rigid set of his shoulders. "I'm sorry."

He didn't say anything. The temper he rarely acknowledged swirled up so fast, so huge it choked his words.

"I'm really sorry," she said again and something in his mind snapped.

"You're sorry?" he hissed, "For violating my privacy? For sticking your nose into something that is not your business? For being a prying," he stopped, took a deep breath, and thought about not saying anything, but his mouth had a mind of its own, " _bitch_?"

Her eyes flashed, and expressions changed her face in a fleeting panorama of emotions. Then finally, her chin jutted, her head angled and if she were tall enough, she would've been looking down her nose at him with hawkish severity. "I know you're angry," she started, "but that does not give you the right to start calling me names." She paused, drilled him with a glare and saw him tense a little more at the forbidding look on her face. "And if you ever call me that again," she walked closer so that her face was tipped up and level with his nose, "I will shove your dick in your mouth and make you choke on it. Understand?"

She didn't wait for an answer. Instead, she stalked off down the road to a tiny blue VW and sat on its bumper, leaving him stunned, speechless and a little staggered. Somewhere in between her threat of asphyxiation by neuterization, the rage seemed to have seeped out of him. In its place was an icy shame licking its way up his chest. He had never been particularly fond of that time in his life, and to have it thrust in his face in that manner had been…kind of a rude awakening.

He saw Sakura's profile, looking wilted and limp, staring into the gold lighted windows of the Ichiraku establishment.

He shifted awkwardly on his feet not entirely sure what he could look at without feeling gut wrenching guilt. So he steeled himself against the impending conversation and walked to her. Apologies had never come easy to him.

"You can leave," she said, her voice coming in crisp, curt tones. "I'll catch a ride with Ino. They'll be out any second now."

"That—that time in my life—," he started, and everything about her softened—her eyes, mouth, voice. She let out a soft exhale, forgiving him as abruptly as she'd become angry.

"You don't owe me an explanation Sasuke," she said. "What Naruto did was stupid, but he was only looking out for me. I _can't_ hate him for that."

"I know," he said, "And I'm sorry." He lowered his lashes and willed away the heat suffusing into his cheeks. "I was out of line."

With a weary sigh, she tossed back her tangled pink hair, hooking it over one ear. "You were, and I accept your apology."

"Would you please get in the car now?" he asked, still not meeting her eyes.

Stiffly smiling her assent, she allowed him to escort her to the car.

 **xx**

That night, Sakura fixed up two of the minor trauma patients that showed at the ER and helped her attending operate on a woman with Subdural Hematoma, who showed up at five in the morning. At eight, she made her usual rounds and was finally relieved of her shift when her colleague showed up. She was grateful for the never ending tasks and constant bustle of the hospital.

It meant she didn't have time to second guess herself.

But as she finally lay down on the bed and closed her eyes against the dim sunlight that managed to penetrate the curtains she couldn't run away from her thoughts. She thought about all the ways her life could go wrong, of all the ways Sasuke and his family could stifle her without anyone being any wiser. She talked a big game, but in the end what would she be able to do, she thought, if Sasuke decided that his fist wanted to have a close encounter with her face?

She swallowed hard, feeling her heart beat faster. That's why she'd had the contract drawn, she tried to reassure herself. If he tried to hurt her, she would make sure he would have a legal hell to pay.

When she finally fell asleep, she dreamed of Mikoto's lovely smile hiding pointed teeth and Sasuke holding a dagger to her back.

 **xx**

The venue for the engagement was the Grand Ballroom of the Uchiha Estate itself. From the outside, it looked like a homey little cottage that housed a few extra bedrooms, but the inside was as decadent as a chocolate lava cake. Smack in the center of the house, surrounded by an outcropping of corridors extending like beams of the sun, was a giant expanse of a room that could entertain up to quite a few hundred people.

Sasuke stood beneath the giant monstrosity of a chandelier that dropped from the ceiling in uneven circular tiers. If it were any other room it might have been over the top, but given Mikoto's penchant for everything flawless, it just enhanced the character of the hall. A steady stream of guests were slowly trickling in and by his side, he could feel Sakura fidgeting with nerves.

Under the golden light, smack in the middle of the room, he felt like an exhibit. And so, he guessed, did Sakura. The hall was decked out in white roses and tulle. Fairy lights winked surreptitiously, threaded in a clandestine way that made the room look like an enchanted fairy tale. It was magnificent.

Sasuke knew that tonight was a night of utter pomp and ceremony. He looked around the room. Mikoto was flitting around from one person to another like a butterfly, but her smile, Sasuke noticed, was radiant. He felt his chest unclench a little. Fugaku was huddled in a shadowy corner with Grandfather Izuna, who looked a little worse for wear; hunched with age, skin sagging and hair white, but his eyes were clear as crystal, black as onyx and sharp as razor. He was staring at Sakura and the deep ridge in his brow showed his disapproval. Sasuke felt a small surge of protectiveness. It was unbidden, but not unwelcome, so he looked at her from the corner of his eye to make sure she was alright.

She wore an emerald green off the shoulder number that flowed all the way down to her feet, her hair was tied up in a loose chignon and her eyes were wide and had a maniacal gleam to them.

"Second thoughts?" he asked with a slight quirk of his lip.

"You wish," she bit out through a tight smile, then looked around the room worriedly. He followed her gaze and it landed on no one in particular. He frowned. Except for her parents, the only people he knew from her side were her friends, and they weren't there. He didn't say anything.

"Aw, man," said a familiar voice from behind, "You two look like those stupid figurines on top of one of those monster wedding cakes. All that's missing is a plastic sheen."

Sasuke turned around in time to see Karin smack Suigetsu upside the head. "Hey," she said, grinning, looking first at him, then at Sakura.

He nodded once, politely.

"Hi," said Sakura, sounding a little dazed.

"I'm Karin," said Karin, extending a perfectly manicured hand and smiling sharply. "And that," she pointed the thumb of her other hand in his direction, "is Suigetsu." Sakura took it and they shook.

"Sakura," she said, introducing herself.

"It's funny because you kind of remind me of spring," said Suigetsu, flashing all his pointed teeth in a good natured grin.

"Um, thanks?" said Sakura uncertainly.

Karin flashed him a mean looking glance from the corner of her eye. "Ignore him," she told Sakura, crossing her arms across her chest. "He's an idiot."

"I know a few of those," replied Sakura, her expression wry and amused.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Sasuke got the feeling that this moment might mark the beginning of a veritable friendship that he might come to regret. The moment passed when Suigetsu said, "We're the only friends this loser has. And if you break his heart, we might just break you."

"Huh," said Sakura, "I would like to see you try." She could feel her temper boiling just beneath a fine veneer of anxiety, and Suigetsu's sarcastically amused expression was suddenly irking her to no end.

"Suigetsu," drawled Sasuke, and there was no mistaking the threat in his voice.

Suigetsu raised his arms in perfunctory surrender, never losing his smile. "Just giving you a heads up."

"Ugh," groaned Karin. "Sorry about that," she said, looking more annoyed than contrite. Then she shot Sakura a quick glance and her glasses flashed. "I like you, Sakura. But I'm not the best judge of character. So rest assured, you hurt him? There will be hell to pay."

In the wake of the awkward silence, Karin and Suigetsu walked off.

"Nice friends you got there," she said slowly, carefully.

"They're idiots," he said, a light blush suffusing his cheeks. Sakura was noticing that Sasuke had a hard time owning up to emotional attachment, no matter how much he cared about those people.

"They're idiots who care for you," she said, a light scold in her tone, "You should appreciate them more."

"Hn," he said noncommittally, not meeting her eyes. Then frowning, he nodded in the direction of the door. "Your friends."

The relief Sakura felt at the sight of Naruto with Hinata at one arm and Ino on the other, looking like a complete douche to anyone who didn't know them, was staggering. She felt her throat clog and her eyes water. She blinked the sudden tears away and waved at the door.

Immediately spotting her, Ino extracted her arm and power walked to them in heels the length of skyscrapers. "Happy engagement Forehead girl," she beamed. "Sasuke-kun," she nodded curtly.

By then, Naruto and Hinata had made their way to them.

"You came," she whispered, tearing a little again and promptly blinking them away.

"Of course, Sakura-chan," said Hinata, softly smiling. She didn't acknowledge Sasuke.

Everyone looked at Naruto, not knowing what to expect. He looked at Sakura, apprehensive and fidgety. His smile came slow and hesitant, but it came. "Sakura-chan!" he cried, opening his arms wide for a hug which Sakura eagerly walked into. Naruto's hugs were always warm, but this one had an extra bit of sunshine and praline in it. It made Sakura feel loved and she squeezed her eyes shut against the relief of having Naruto with her again. Reluctantly she let him go and stepped back at Sasuke's side.

Naruto looked at him and his face darkened with a storm that seemed to come out of nowhere. Then he smiled his cool, fuck-off-and-die smile that he'd only ever used at Hidan, their Theology TA at college. "Hurt her, and you die," he said in an ominous tone, speaking right through his smile.

"Naruto-kun," said Hinata worriedly, pressing her hand to his chest. Naruto caught it in his own and squeezed.

Sasuke nodded impassively and Naruto's shoulder's seeped of all the tension. His grin was back and so was the sparkle in his eyes. "I can't believe you're getting married Sakura-chan!"

"I know!"

"Oh who is that hunk!" asked Ino, pointing at Itachi.

Naruto made a face. "Go _away,_ Ino-chan!"

Sakura smiled, feeling her insides relaxing all the way. She had Naruto. She had Ino. And she had Hinata. If anyone messed with her, she knew they would always have her back.

 **xx**

The press, who Sakura had assumed would be a crowd all wild and out of control, was surprisingly organized. That was what Sakura assumed, until they started asking the questions; Is this marriage out of love? Why would an Uchiha marry a no one? What kind of business transaction was this? When was the wedding? What was she going to wear?

On and on it went. Some, she countered, some she couldn't; all the while the Uchiha's had her back.

When the reporters began peppering them with questions that bordered on offensive, Itachi held up both hands and smiled affectionately. That smile, Sakura thought, walked a thin line between empathy and condescension.

"I think that is enough," he said, and no one spoke otherwise. There was an immense charisma with which he held himself, an aura of such unmitigated authority that one could never defy. You did not want this man as your enemy, thought Sakura.

She was assured that no one would interfere with her life. The Uchiha had been a part Konoha nobility, and were philanthropists who needed the press to bend parties to their advantage. That was the only reason the conference had been held.

Nevertheless, as Sasuke dropped Sakura at her house, she felt a tight little acorn of worry in her belly. She bit her lip and worried if she's made the worst mistake of her life. The ring on the finger of her left hand felt heavy. So did the weight on her shoulders.

"It's going to be fine," said Sasuke, breaking her out of her thoughts. She could only see his profile. He was looking straight ahead, face impassive, but somehow, the tone of his voice reassured her. It hit her then, like a freight truck; she was going to spend the rest of her _life_ with this man, she was going to kiss him, sleep with him, eat with him, have his children and she knew next to _nothing_ about him.

She let out a manic peel of laughter and he looked at her from the corner of his eye. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she replied, feeling the acorn grow into an orange. "What's your favorite color?"

He gave her a sideway glance. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Color?"

"I've never thought about it. Why?"

"Oh. Well, what's your favorite food?"

"Tomato."

"That is not food," she replied, trepidation churning in her stomach.

"It is. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!"

"Why are you suddenly asking all these questions?"

"Because I know nothing about you!" she cried, feeling the orange evolve into a football. Her stomach heaved and a wave of nausea crawled up her throat. "Stop! Stop the car!"

"Why?"

" _Because_ ," she shot, angry and panicked, "I'm going to throw up!"

Looking alarmed, Sasuke eased the car to the side of the road. Sakura shot out of the side and heaved on the side of the road. Another wave of nausea hit her hard and she crouched down, feeling nothing beyond the heaving of her stomach and the tightness of her throat. She retched a few more times before finally leaning back, breathing hard and losing her footing. She fell back and thumped into Sasuke, who caught her. They caught each other's eye and Sakura let herself lean on his chest. Her legs felt wobbly so she let them rest on the asphalt and closed her eyes in relief as the queasiness passed.

She could feel Sasuke's chest falling and rising beneath her back, his breath on the side of her neck. There was a fine sheen of cold sweat on her face and body and the gown itched with the wetness of it. "Sorry about that," she muttered. "Just give me a minute."

"Aa," he said, not letting go of her.

After a few moments of silence, she pried herself away from Sasuke, leaning her hands on the road and turning her head to look at him. He was pressed against the side of his car, legs bent at awkward angles that would've been painful to sit on for as long as she'd taken. Something in her mind unwound. She took a deep breath and hauled herself to her feet in a wobbly manner.

"Thank you," she said. Alarmed by the way her voice fractured on each word, he reached out and put a hand on her arm. She let him pull her to him. He peered into her face, looking worried. "Okay?" he asked, and the fact that there was no bite in his tone made Sakura close her eyes in gratitude.

"Yes," she whispered.

Then without warning, he shrugged out of his jacket and held it out so she could slip her arms through the sleeves. "Your teeth are chattering."

She hadn't realized. "You're a nice guy."

He raised a dubious brow.

"Don't worry. I haven't figured out how nice, yet."

 **xx**

 _tbc_


	4. Chapter 4

**Arranged**

 **Summary:** Arranged marriage in the twenty-first century might have been uncommon, but not unheard of. "Doesn't she look _lovely_ , Sasuke-kun?"

 **Notes:**

i) _**ATTENTION READERS:**_ Until and unless I get a proper response, this fic is on HIATUS.

ii) This wedding was supposed to happen in chapter one. I can't believe it took me four to get here.

iii) It might look like the wedding was an excess, but I needed to write those moments; that was two people signing their life away to relative strangers, and especially for a girl, it's a terrifying moment.

 **x**

 _You gazed into my eyes_

 _What could I do but linger?_

 _I ran my hands all through your hair_

 _And a cootie bit my finger_

 **x**

The first dress fitting was canceled because Sakura had to assist in an impromptu surgery.

The second one was canceled because there had been a terrible bus accident and all hands were needed on deck.

The third time, Sasuke had to fly to Iwa for an emergency conference because Itachi was sick.

The fourth time, Mikoto put her foot down and decided that come hell or high water, this fitting was happening. Her will turned out to be indomitable.

Since the Uchiha were the traditional sort who believed in the ways of the old, they were going to have a Shinto ceremony. Personally, Sakura was appalled by the idea of wearing white just to show that she was ready to conform herself to the ways of the family she was marrying into. She believed herself to be a strong, independent individual and the thought of acting on such a submissive belief made her stomach churn.

Hinata had given her a soft smile and said, "But isn't it up to you to decide what the color means?"

At Sakura's dubious look, she had continued, "Every culture has its own representation of a color, Sakura-chan. If you were having a western style ceremony, you'd still be wearing white."

Sakura promptly decided that the white of her kimono would not represent submission, but hope. Hope for a future that was best for her, where she thrived.

Several shades of white silk lay strewn in the boutique, but none seemed to satisfy Mikoto. Mebuki walked around the shop examining various fabric and Sasuke sat in a corner looking like a very annoyed deer caught in headlights.

Sakura eyeballed the ivory cloth and held it against her chest. Ino had been roped up into a last minute shift exchange so Hinata was the only one with her. Sakura gave her a hopeful, questioning look.

"Um…" Hinata started, looking terrified and uncomfortable. Saying 'no' to something still made her restless.

Sakura sighed and eyes the ivory with narrowed eyes. She liked the white of her lab coat, but didn't know the specific shade of it. She looked at the pool of silk strewn about the shop and randomly pulled one out. She draped it across her shoulders and whirled around regally.

From the other side of the room, Mikoto gasped. "Oh," she said, eyes glittering in a whimsical wonder. " _Oh_."

"Uh—," started Sakura, not knowing what had happened. Hinata and Mebuki were looking from Mikoto to Sakura, silently gauging the situation.

"My dear," Mikoto glided forward, her dark eyes asparkle, and spoke as if she confided a deep dark secret, "This is the _one_." Then she whirled around and set her eyes on Sasuke, "Doesn't she look _lovely_ , Sasuke-kun?"

Immediately, Sasuke's manner changed from one of piqued annoyance to that of ingravating servitude that he usually supported in front of Mikoto. "Yes, mother."

The fact that he only ever slanted her a fleeting glance didn't escape Sakura. With narrowed eyes, she decided to have a talk about it later.

Turned out, the shade she chose was porcelain and when she looked in the mirror, she saw that it made the cream of her skin look radiant. Mebuki had tears in her eyes.

Next, they went through the customized embroidery catalogue and Sakura was surprised to feel an actual flutter of excitement in her chest. She ignored it in lieu of thoroughly examining the archive. After a long discussion, it was decided that the _uchikake_ over robe would have a scarlet lining and the jacket would have an embroidery of twining branches of cherry flowers, a seamless ripple of koi and elaborate peony and chrysanthemums on the hem and sleeves. In the center of the back of the garment would be a white crane.

The _kakeshita_ would be a sheer chiffon silk with elaborate pattern weave and the most flimsiest embroidery of cranes—"Mates for life," Mikoto gushed giddily.

For the _wataboshi_ , they selected a sheer white fabric—stiff, but flowing. As Mebuki held it above Sakura's head, the tears that had been swimming in her eyes began to stream down her cheeks. "My baby," she whispered, and then brutally blinked back the torrent and arranged her face in an expression of stern efficiency that was her norm.

And so, the measurements were taken and the kimono was commissioned. It was now Sasuke's turn to be fitted.

Since the _Montsuki_ was less elaborate, it only took a small while for the cloth to be selected and the measurements to be taken. Sasuke grimly bore through it all, holding tight to the bare threads of his dignity.

As he stood there silently, holding his arms up and his legs apart, Sakura felt a sudden urge to walk up to him and slide her arms around his waist, lean the side of her face onto his chest and just…hold on. The notion took her by surprise and she swiftly shook herself out of it.

When it came time for the payments to be made, Mikoto subtly tried to hand the manager her credit card but Mebuki fluidly intercepted it.

"I'm going to pay for my daughter's dress," she said sternly, but not unkindly.

The two of them started at each other for ten humming seconds, then Mikoto graciously retreated.

Hinata put her hand on Sakura's arm. Her eyes were shining and Sakura felt a lump form in her own throat again. _Oh god_ , she thought, this was actually happening.

 **x**

She caught Sasuke just as Mikoto was about to climb into the passenger seat of his car.

"Hey," she said, "Can we talk?"

Sasuke looked at his mother, who smiled expectantly and said, "I'll wait in the car, darling."

Sasuke followed Sakura to the park where she bought a boat of takoyaki and thrust it in his hands. "Eat," she commanded.

Sasuke frowned, not liking the tone of her voice. "What did you want to talk about?" he asked crisply.

She looked at him thoughtfully, then led him to an empty bench nearby. "I want to know the story, you know," she started, "behind your indentured servitude to your mom?"

Sasuke's face darkened and he dropped the tray of takoyaki in the space between them. "It's called being a good son," he corrected darkly.

She stood her ground before his glare, eyeing him narrowly and slid closer in a challenging manner. "Really?"

"Yes," he replied tersely.

"Okay," she said, leaning back and popping a ball in her mouth.

He frowned, not knowing what all that was about. "Is that all?"

She gave a negligent shrug of her shoulders.

His frown morphed into a scowl and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "My mother…she was—always on my side, okay?" he snapped. "I love her for it."

The heat of his glare lent the weight of truth to his words and Sakura nodded stiffly. "Okay."

"Is that all?" he snapped again.

In response, she gave him a dispassionate stare which might have hinted a growing vexation. "No," she said rigidly, "I want to know _when_ she was always on your side."

"When my father played favorites," he replied crisply.

"Oh," she said, taken aback. "Oh."

Sasuke folded his arms and leaned back on the bench with a stubborn frown. Feeling a cocktail of shame and discomfiture, she took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry."

Looking at his face right then, closed off and rigid she felt a sudden ball of fiery anger flare in her chest. "Well if your dad ever tries to pull that off in front of me, I'm going to rip him a new one."

She looked at him expectantly and he looked straight ahead. So she stuck a toothpick in a takoyaki ball and held it up to his lips in an apology.

They sat there like that for a few long moments and then Sasuke reluctantly took the toothpick from her hand and took a small bite. Sakura's lip quirked in half a smile as she stared at him.

 **x**

Sasuke stood at the French windows of his apartment that looked over the city. Konoha had a long history of violence and infamy—his great grandfather had once conspired to eliminate the entire foundation of the village and rebuild it from the ashes. The insanity that ran in the Uchiha bloodline was notorious. He wondered if it was that insanity that had made him want to hold on to Haruno Sakura today.

His father had never been a great parent—with Itachi, it was too much responsibility at too young an age, and with Sasuke, it was too little, too late. As a child he'd always craved for Fugaku's affection; he'd worked hard for even a tiny shred of it, only to be coldly snubbed. He was grateful for his mother and brother, for always being there to hold him. He realized now, that Fugaku was not a bad person; just misunderstood and awkward, but Sasuke couldn't love him with all his heart like he did his mother and brother. His heart was small, and he wasn't afraid to admit it.

Today, when Sakura had insinuated his…mollycoddle tendencies, it had been like a slap in the face. It had made him want to bury her in caustic words and acrimonious rejoinders. He hadn't wanted to tell her of Fugaku's negligent nurturing but they'd just had dress fittings—for their _wedding_. She was going to be his _wife_ , and he couldn't stand the thought of living like a closed book hiding behind unresolved daddy issue's.

She hadn't laughed or made fun of him, and for that he was grateful. In fact, he was glad that it was Sakura he was getting married to; despite her sometimes loopy tendencies, she was a good person. He could imagine spending the rest of his life with her. He could imagine waking up to her. He could imagine, someday, actually falling for her.

 **x**

"Three weeks, boss!" Ino chirped from across the body. Her hair was tied up in a scrub cap and her gown was spattered with a little bit of blood. The steady beeping of OR machinery was her solemn backdrop.

Sakura grimaced behind her mask. She didn't need a reminder of that when she was wrist deep in someone's gut. "Shut up, Ino." She peeled her way gently through the layers of skin and tried to locate the source of the internal bleeding.

" _You_ , shut up!" Ino shot at her. "Aren't you excited?" she asked.

"Mmm," said Sakura, completely tuning her out now that she was in a precarious situation. She located the source and clamped it shut. Breathing a sigh of relief, she finally tuned back in.

"Whoa, you were actually gone for a little while there weren't you?" Ino asked.

"As you should've been, Piggy," she replied, beaming.

"Witch," Ino mumbled, flashing her a mock glare.

 **x**

In the past few months, Sasuke had continued with his 'courtship'. Since both of them were busy people with unpredictable schedules, these 'dates' had been far and few between. One time, he took her to a restaurant. They had eaten in an unbreachable, awkward silence. The other, he took her to the Hokage mountain, Konoha's notorious Mount Rushmore. They'd sat in comfortable silence and looked over the city. Then he'd produced a thermos of coffee and silently handed it to her. It had just the right amount of cream and sugar. She'd felt her heart flutter.

Another time, he'd taken her to the aquarium. It had been one of the loveliest experiences of her life. They'd sat in the middle of the hall with all the kids bustling about and talked.

"Why do you like tomatoes?" she had asked.

"Why do you take your coffee with cream and sugar?" he'd countered.

"Touché," she's said, impressed.

This time, he'd taken her boating at the lake. Located a few miles outside of Konoha, it was a wide stretch of murky blue with a park retreat around it. They sat on the grass and looked ahead; Sakura at the rippling water and Sasuke, at the sky.

"How do you come up with these things?" asked Sakura.

He closed his eyes and leaned back on his arms. "Come up with what?"

"Where to take me every time."

"The internet," he said impassively.

"Huh," she said, unimpressed.

"What did you expect?" he asked, semi-opening one eye and tilting his face to look at her.

She shrugged, thought about it and said, "I guess I'd have done the same."

He turned his head back and closed his eye again. Sakura stared at him, and once again, was hit by the sudden urge to wrap her arms around him, to feel the length of his body, the solid warmth of him, against her. She swallowed and clenched her hands into a fist. Without warning, he turned and she was caught in the act of staring at him.

"What?" he asked, curiously.

Like a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar, she panicked and floundered for something to say. "N—Nothing. Just—I was wondering—I wanted to know if, you were, you know…" she left the sentence hanging expectantly.

He fixed her with an amused stare. "Yes…?"

Eyes wide, she said the first word that popped into her head. "Virgin?"

The two of them stared at each other, Sasuke in raised browed wonder and Sakura with the wide eyed shame of someone who'd succumbed to temporary insanity. "Um…" she started, stopped and looked straight ahead at nothing in particular. Her cheeks burned a light shade of pink.

Sasuke felt his lips tug into a smirk. This was a conversation that he would have willingly wanted to have right after he'd volunteered to dance in the nutcracker and legally changed his name to Buttercup Posy-Pants, but it wasn't every day that he had a chance to tease Sakura. It was she who usually made fun of his flustered countenance. So he said, "You really went for broke there, didn't you?"

Taking a deep breath to reign in her agitation, she looked at him reproachfully and said in a measured tone, "Well, I want to know."

He shrugged. "No."

"Okay."

"Are you?"

"Yes."

Blindsided, Sasuke blinked back his shock. "Really?"

"Yes," she replied crisply.

He said nothing. The fact that he said nothing at all made Sakura fidget. He just…looked. At first he held her gaze for a long moment, then he looked up; he looked down; he looked all around. This was done with such deliberate languorous insolence that she began to feel like she was being perused for purchase. "What?" she asked waspishly.

"Thank you, for telling me," he said.

Suddenly feeling inadequate, she snapped, "I came close, ok? But it just didn't—I didn't—"

He put his hand on the small of her back, gently and she stopped; took a deep breath and looked out at the lake again. His hand remained at her back, and she didn't ask him to move it.

"It's silly, right?" she asked eventually. Her voice was strangely muted.

'No,' said Sasuke, feeling something very warm and very odd in the vicinity of his heart. "I think that might be the least silly thing I've heard in years."

Later, they took a boat ride around the lake and talked about trivial things. She told him about her interest in general surgery, and he told her about Hana, Karin and Suigetsu's daughter. She asked him how he met them and he clammed up, which annoyed her.

"Stop acting like I've stuck you in the butt with a fork," she snapped. "It's just a question. If you don't feel like answering, just say so, but don't ignore me. Okay?"

He gave her a long sideways look. Then he paddled the boat extra hard and mumbled, "Okay," all the while avoiding her gaze.

 **x**

The day before the wedding, Sakura got assigned the night shift at the ER. A couple who'd gotten into an accident was bought in. The man was relatively unharmed but the wife was three months pregnant and bleeding profusely.

She spent five hours in an Operating Room fixing the damage. By the time she got out she was exhausted, so she went into the on-call room and crashed. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she remembered what day it was. Tomorrow, she thought, she would be sleeping in someone else's home; her name would be Sakura Uchiha; and her entire life would be turned inside out.

 **x**

Sakura wasn't the only one unable to sleep. With his hands linked behind his head, Sasuke stared at the ceiling above his bed.

Tomorrow, he was going to don his wedding garments and pledge his life to another person in an elaborate ceremony. She was brilliant and vibrant and so full of life; a complete antithesis of his own. He would share the rest of his life with her; sleep with her, eat with her, share his home with her, have children with her. He wondered how it was going to work out— _if_ it was going to work out at all.

 **x**

She was woken up by an annoyingly cheerful Ino. "Wakey, wakey, Billboard Brow."

Sakura groaned into the pillow.

The side of the bed dipped as Ino sat down beside her. Sakura purred in contentment as Ino ran her fingers through her hair. "You're getting married today," said Ino softly.

Instantly, Sakura's stomach dropped and a swarm of mutant pterodactyls started flapping in their wings in her belly. A terrible premonition of failure quivered through her. "I think I'm going to puke," she mumbled blearily.

"Baloney!" said Ino, inarguably. "You're going to go out there, marry that hunkalicious man and live happily ever after!"

Sakura swallowed bile, groaned and buried her head in the pillow again.

 **x**

The entire day was a never ending beauty countdown plan. She arrived at the Salon at 8; Mikoto, Mebuki and Ino in tow where they were promptly separated. She was led to a small room with an oblong bed in the middle and relaxing music flowing out from hidden speakers.

She was asked to take her clothes off and lie down. What followed was the most traumatizing experience of her life. When she limped out, Ino gave her a lopsided grin. Sakura shot her a murderous glare.

Her hair was washed and tied in a towel, her face was plucked and primed, massaged and kneaded. There was an hour of massage therapy followed by a manicure and a pedicure. By the time all that was done, quarter of the day was gone.

She was then helped into the _juban_ undergarments. Over that she wore the _kakeshita_ , which was tied around her body like an elaborate gown. She was then led to a comfortable looking salon chair where a team of specialists applied her makeup and teased and twisted her hair into the traditional hairstyle of the Edo Era. Once the updo was complete, _tsunokakushi_ was gently pinned onto her head. Once the headpiece was on, lacquered combs and delicate metal _kanzashi_ ornaments were positioned at just the right angle in her hair, so that every time she moved, each ornament trembled and swayed precariously.

When she finally stood up, her head felt like an entire continent was dangling on for dear life on there. Mikoto and Mebuki sat smiling at her from just across the room as Ino helped her into the _uchikake_ robe. On the porcelain of the silk, the embroidery was intricate and beautiful; sinuous branches of cherry trees twisting up and around the robe, the sleeves falling in long bells down past her arms, the hem falling fluidly down to cover her feet, which were encased in three inch powder white pumps. From the back, the collar of the kimono dipped elegantly, revealing the nape of her neck.

Ino helped put the oversized _wataboshi_ over her head and Sakura bowed her head to carry the weight of it.

When all was done, Mebuki stood up and walked to her. Her face was contorted into a trembling smile as she handed Sakura the ceremonial fan and fixed the tassels at the collar of the _uchikake_.

Under the heavy layers of the _shiromoku_ , Sakura's legs felt brittle, like ice ready to crack. Her stomach curled into a tight ball of suspended unease as she walked out to the car.

 **x**

Sasuke was waiting for her as she was led to the hotel room with her small procession. He looked arrestingly handsome in his _montsuki_. The sleeves of his _haori_ dipped low as he held his hand out to receive her. Fugaku and Itachi stood vigilantly in the corner with her father and Naruto. Kizashi looked ready to burst into tears and Naruto smiled at her brilliantly.

A registrar sat across from them with a marriage certificate and legalizing documents. The nervous tremors in Sakura's major organs became serious quakes as she took the pen and signed her name on the document. She watched Sasuke as he took the pen, for any signs of hesitation, but if he felt any, he didn't show any outward signs of it.

Beneath the tough focused exterior, Sasuke was a bundle of nerves. This was, he thought, a start of a new chapter in his life. He had no way of knowing how it would turn out, if he'd made the biggest mistake of his life or if this might be the best thing to ever happen to him.

After the papers were taken away, the Priest stepped forward and explained the various steps of the ceremony.

Half an hour later the procession finally began. The _sanshin_ led the party a small walk to the shrine. Sakura, who was decked from head to toe in heavy garments was barely able to walk, and was very grateful for Sasuke's arm, in the crook of which she'd stowed her hand for support. It was a small thing, but it helped.

When they arrived at the shrine they were led to the main chamber, where as the ceremony started, all in attendance bowed for the _Shubatsu-no-gi_ , as the priest purified the bride, groom and the assembled party. Sakura felt like her head piece might fall off when the priest touched her bowed head with the purification branch and held her breath.

The minister started the Norito-sojo; held out a scroll of ancient text and announced the marriage to the _Hachiman_ _Okami_ deities. Just as Sakura's legs were starting to cramp, the prayer ended and everyone in the room bowed. She gasped as her ornaments dangled precariously and through the hazy veil of the _wataboshi_ she saw Sasuke give her an alarmed look. Not wanting to speak, she reached out her hand and squeezed his reassuringly. The pterodactyls in her stomach had finally calmed down to domestic butterflies again and there was a tingle in her chest as the priest announced _San San Kudo_.

They stepped towards the altar in unison and with impressive coordination sipped sake three times from three differed sizes of cups. Then Sasuke took the scroll the priest had handed him, turned slightly in her direction and started reading the vows.

"We make this vow respectfully, before the Hachiman diety," he said loudly, clearly. "We, Haruno Sakura and Uchiha Sasuke are humbled to be able to make our vows on this auspicious day, and to become husband and wife with the blessing of Kami-sama."

His eyes slanted to her as he said the next words, "We swear before Kami-sama, to love and respect each other forever, and to strive to bring our family prosperity," here he paused and made sure she was looking at him, understanding the meaning of his words.

"Moreover," he said, and his voice carried over the audience at large, but his words were just for her, "we swear never to veer from the true path of matrimony."

Sakura felt her eyes brim with tears. In his words, was the underlying message that this marriage, no matter how it came to be, was not a sham; not a mere word or a simple relationship. It was a silent promise that said, he was, and would from now on be, Sakura thought with bemusement, a headache for her forever.

His gaze didn't leave hers until the priest handed them the _tamagushi_ branch and they bent down in front of the altar to say their individual prayers. Sakura closed her eyes and prayed for a content life; for her and for Sasuke.

Sasuke prayed for a life not marred by his mistakes, for a happy family and a content life.

They placed the branch on the altar and bowed twice, deeply and clapped twice, then bowed once more. They stood up, and the rings were bought to them, hers by both Ino and Hinata, Sasuke's by Itachi.

As she offered her hand to Sasuke, she felt the butterflies in her stomach flutter turbulently. He slipped the band into her ring finger, and then offered his own. She took the ring from Hinata and slipped it onto his finger. There, she thought, relieved. It was done. She was done.

The procession applauded uproariously and under the veil Sakura felt light headed, like she was out of her body but somehow in it, too. She stumbled a little to the left, feeling a faint and Sasuke caught her by the waist.

Up front in the crowed Mikoto's eyes shone with gleeful tears which were mirrored in her sigh of contentment. Mebuki stood tall and proud while Kizashi sniffed into a napkin. Naruto clapped his hands proudly and on her side Hinata quietly sniffled in the sleeve of her kimono. Ino whooped.

The applause died down and Sakura had a brief premonition of what her life was going to be like. Being married to Sasuke would be like living on the fringe of a tornado, and she was going to be caught up in the whirl.

 **x**

 _tbc_


	5. Chapter 5

**Arranged**

 **Summary:** Arranged marriage in the twenty-first century might have been uncommon, but not unheard of. "I don't understand your prudishness," she started, "but I'm coming to understand your hazy integrity."

 **Note:**

i) Thank you for your kinds words and encouragement.  
ii) If you would be kind enough to leave your thoughts in reviews, this might get updated in the next ten days.

 **x**

 _Romeo, oh, Romeo. Get out of my face_.—ten things I hate about you

 **x**

Since the wedding had been ceremonial, it was decided that the reception would be held the day after. So, sitting in the car, being escorted to a lonely, isolated house on the outskirts of Konoha, Sakura felt her left eyelid throb uncontrollably. Beside her, Sasuke sat silently—impassively. She knew what was coming next, and she was equal parts apprehensive, dreadful and anticipating. Hidden under the sleeves of the _uchikake_ , her hands were clasped together—numb.

It took them two hours to reach the house and by then, every part of Sakura's body was quaking. Sasuke helped her out of the car and didn't let go of her hand until they were up the porch stairs. He helped her pick up all the layers of her kimono so she could walk properly and led her inside the house. Through her veil she could see that it was dimly lit; in the center of the foyer was a small chandelier that emanated of light probably the lumens of a small firelight in a forest.

"Are you hungry?" asked Sasuke

"No," she answered, her voice muted. Her heart thudded in her chest, each palpitation resonating through her body as an unsolicited tremor. If this was going to happen, she thought, then she wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

Carefully, Sasuke led her up a wide, curving staircase. Sakura couldn't help darting glances of admiration as she followed; the highly polished balustrade was hand-carved mahogany, each step of the staircase a gold-veined marble. She felt inadequate and out of her depth. _What have I done_ , she despaired.

The upstairs was a long corridor with oak wood paneling and soft golden lights hidden in the walls. The silence was eerie and as they closed in on the only open door at the end of the hall. Sakura had to swallow multiple times to keep the dryness from her throat. All she could see of Sasuke was his back, clad in the blackest of _haori's_. The silk rippled as he walked, highlighting his broad shoulders. Nervous tingles ran down all the way to the tips of her fingers. Her palm, enclosed in Sasuke's hand, seemed to be the focul point of her being right then.

Once in the room Sasuke let go of her hand and tilted his head back to look at her. "Do you need help with that?" he asked, nodding at her heavy attire.

With trembling hands but a steady voice, she said, "Probably."

He nodded and walked farther into the room. Sakura followed, careful not to trip on the hem, and tried to detect any lecherous effect in his stride. Before she could actually find anything he turned around and took her shoulders in his hand, gently turned her and pushed her down on the mattress.

Sakura's heartbeat was a canon fire; burst after burst pumping through her. She closed her eyes as his hands moved up her head, expecting his lips to descend on hers at any moment. What she felt was a gentle tug on her head as the _watabosh_ i was pried off.

Without the hazy material blocking her eyes, for the first time in hours, she could see properly. Sasuke was examining the state of her head with furrowed brows.

Despite herself, a small smile tugged at her lips. " _Tsunokakushi_ ," she said in an amused voice, "My head's been killing me all day."

"Huh," he said quietly, twining his fingers in her hair and carefully probing the headband this way and that. It disturbed the various ornaments and a comb fell out of the side of her head. "Ow," she deadpanned. Sasuke promptly let go and scooted back. "Maybe you should—," he started, looking around the room as Sakura looked at him.

"Yeah," she finished. She sat there a moment, looking at him speculatively, her head heavy and jangling. Then she dragged her right foot forward to stand up and tripped on the hem of the kimono. " _Ow_ ," she moaned as her butt hit the hardwood floor and her elbow knocked into the side of the bed. " _Ow_."

Immediately, Sasuke was at her side, helping her on the bed. An electric current had just quivered through her elbow, all the way to her head and it throbbed painfully where it had connected with the bed.

"Okay?" asked Sasuke, not sounding too worried. She felt her temper flare and took a deep breath to calm down. "Yes," she snapped, "Fine."

The headpiece dislodged from her head and dropped into her lap. They started at it for a moment, then Sasuke turned his head to the side and let out a soft laugh. It was the first time Sakura had heard him laugh; it was a soft sound, not unlike a scoff, but she could _feel_ the amused tenor of it. It was a good laugh. It made her own lips bow up. "At least it's off now," she said, gathering the strands of hair that had fallen out of her updo and tucking them behind her ear. Then she massaged her throbbing elbow and waited for the pain to dull down.

"Aa," he said, still not looking at her. She felt the softness of his face pluck at her heart and suddenly, without consulting her brain, her mouth moved of its own accord. "Would you—help me out of this?"

As if realizing the err of its way, her mouth paralyzed into a state of immediate clench, so that she couldn't speak even if she wanted to.

Sasuke looked at her as if she'd grown horns and she felt her cheeks burst into flames. Her mouth started moving of its own accord again, "I mean—uh, never mind. It's just really heavy and I thought I could use a hand. It took, like, _five_ people to get it on—"

"Okay," he cut her off, then without warning, slid close to her. He took the tassels of the over robe and Sakura's breath hitched in her chest. Her head began to swim as he carefully loosened the knot. She turned around so he could slip it off her shoulders. She could feel his breath at the nape of her neck and an involuntary shiver ran down her spine. Cautiously, she stood up and tugged the _shiramoku_ all the way off. Free from the heaviest of the layers, she felt her shoulders relax a fraction.

"Um, thanks," she mumbled, "I can do the rest." Then she sprang towards the door hidden in the corner with the grace of a baby elephant. She slammed it shut and leaned against it, heart pounding against her ribs and breathing fast.

It was only when she had calmed down a bit that she realized she hadn't bought in a change of clothes with her.

 **x**

Sasuke dropped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. His hands itched with the urge to tangle in a fistful of hair and to slide down soft creamy skin. He swallowed as his nether regions twitched uncomfortably. He knew he wasn't going to sleep with her tonight, not like this. She was too flighty, too scared. And he was too much of a gentleman.

She came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, wrapped up in a flimsy under robe. Her hair was down and falling over her shoulders in stiff waves. She looked nervous as she sat down and began to carefully settle herself upon the bed once more. He reached out one strong arm and before she could move, tugged her unceremoniously down beside him, clamped an arm across her chest, and drew her close by his side.

A strange dizziness assailed her at his nearness again. Something about this moment made her senses reel. She felt him move beside her, the bunch of muscles, the catlike spring as he came up in one smooth movement. He loomed over her, his face dark and impassive in the dim glow of the lamps.

Sakura couldn't move. She took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself for the worst.

Nothing happened.

She waited, sensing him above her, hearing his soft breathing, aware of the sizzling air that seemed to tingle around her.

She braced herself to be touched, grabbed, her clothes to be slid off, but…nothing happened.

She opened her eyes.

Sasuke was just as he had been before. Except for one thing. Now his onyx eyes were no longer closed off or expressionless. In the dim light that sent golden-orange shadows throughout the room, they shone with faint amusement.

He was laughing—at _her_.

Their eyes held for a long moment, the green ones flitting nervously beneath the probing of black. Then gingerly, he leaned back and sat up. Sakura's eyes followed his movements with barely restrained skittishness. She let him touch her hand, and realized with a sudden jolt that it was trembling. Sasuke slid of the bed.

At the threshold of the door, he turned and said, "Only when you're ready."

 **x**

Sakura woke to the sound of distant clanking. It took her a while to wake her sleep encrusted mind and the softness of the bed didn't make it any easier. A cupboard banged somewhere and she finally forced her eyes to crack a sliver. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting of the room. Above her hung a board of leather encrusted, wood coffered, false ceiling. Outside, she could feel the sun shining. Her legs ached from deep within the bone and as she burrowed into the covers, it dawned on her that this was not her home; that she was not Haruno Sakura anymore.

The thought sent a jolt through her body. Just then she heard the distant bang again and the tail end of the wedding night suddenly ran through her mind. A hot flash of mortification ran through her body and she squeezed her eyes shut; buried her face in the pillow. Sasuke was downstairs, doing god knew what in the kitchen.

She had been prepared, been so ready to give all of herself away, that when it hadn't happened, it had left her almost bereft. She may never had given herself completely away, but she was no prude. She knew how to have a good time, how to _give_ someone a good time. Only _when you're ready_ , Sasuke had said. Maybe, she thought, it was _he_ who wasn't ready.

She lay there, staring at the ceiling until her constitutional inability to not constantly do anything kicked in. She got up, finished her business in the bathroom, barreled through the closet—which was only stocked with pretty, sexy, uncomfortable clothes—and put on a sundress.

By the time she got downstairs, Sasuke was perched on the kitchen island with a plate of leftovers and a full mug of deliciously aromatic coffee.

"Hey," she mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

"Hey," he answered, following her with his eyes.

She rummaged around for a cup and filled her mug to the brim. There was a small pot of sugar and she found some cream in the fridge. Then she sat down and took a long drag, closing her eyes to savor the taste, all the while feeling Sasuke's eyes on her.

Ino had confiscated her pager and she felt naked without it. There was nothing to do until the reception and she was stuck in a house in the middle of nowhere with a husband who was too honorable to have a little fun with her. And since it was not in her nature to be a demure little princess, she couldn't help but ask, "So what's for breakfast?"

He shrugged.

She looked around the kitchen, spotting nothing except for the empty plate in front of him. With raised brows she said, "Really? Is this how things are going to be?"

He looked perplexed. "Like what?"

"Like you making your own breakfast and me, my own!" Her brain conjured the image of her mother, rooting around the kitchen, managing more than two stoves at a time and her heart clenched with a nostalgia that was probably too soon to surface—it hadn't even been a single day yet! Her eyes prickled with tears and she watched as Sasuke's rigid disposition unfolded in alarm.

Just then, the toaster pinged and two slices of bread popped out.

In the wake of the static silence that ensued, Sakura ventured, "Was that for me?"

Sasuke's entire frame seemed to sag with relief. "Aa."

Sakura's cheeks flared with dormant mortification. "Oh." Then, "Sorry about earlier."

"It's fine."

Amidst the humming of the fridge and the chirping of the birds outside, Sakura chewed her toast, not knowing what else to say. Nervousness made her jittery, and the jitters made her babble. "You should probably know," she started, "that I can't cook to save my life."

"I figured."

Something about the casual way he said that made her bristle. "How come?" she asked with enough snoot to bury the even prissiest of prisses.

When Sasuke answered, his voice was amused. "You told my father."

And Sakura's mind was slammed by the memories of that fateful afternoon where Uchiha Fugaku had made the ignoble presumption that all women must cook. "Oh," she said again, feeling stupid. "Right."

Sasuke seemed to be taking immense pleasure in her discomfort. Ever since their first face off Sakura had given off the unmistakable vibe of assertiveness; a kind of bold decisiveness that may as well have been a big fuck you to the world. So seeing her sitting on that stool, struggling so excruciatingly to do the right thing, say the right words, gave him a small sense of triumph. It told him that she wasn't indomitable, and that was a relief.

"Mother wants to know when we'll be there," he said.

"On time," she replied, trying to pull herself together.

"I'll let her know."

"You do that."

The defiance in her tone was back and for some reason, it made his mouth tug up. She polished off the last of her toast and gazed at him purposefully. He raised a brow in question. "I think we should discuss how this is going to work."

"This?"

"Us."

"Aa."

"First off," she started, and Sasuke suddenly recalled her counting down her conditions to marry him. "I would like you know that one of my biggest pet peeves is being talked to as soon as I wake up."

Sasuke, who had always been a morning person didn't understand the intricacies of people with nocturnal schedules. But he had enough comprehension to respect other people's choices. So he said, "Aa," and let it be.

"But most of the time," she continued, "I don't have the luxury of understanding the universe all over again. I get called in at the oddest times, so it's probably going to mess with your schedule," she informed him.

"I understand," he replied, appreciating her telling him.

"Good," she said, softly now. "Also, um," she started again, hesitation rendering her body rigid and gestures tense, "about last night…"

Sasuke squeezed his eyes close and prayed for any diety out there to terminate this discussion before it had even begun.

"It's—I—Look I get why you might think that I'm not ready or whatever," she said, looking just as pained as him, "but, I kind of am."

Sasuke briefly cast his eyes upward as if seeking some divine help and said very pointedly, "It didn't seem that way."

She shrugged helplessly. "So I might not have been ready to go all the way," she said, "but I was definitely ready to at least _halfway_."

"Oh, god," he said, looking upward again, hoping, praying and wishing she would stop.

That only made her steamroll farther. "I mean aren't you a guy? Don't all guys need a chance to just pounce on?"

In the sudden stillness of the room, Sasuke slid back as if slapped. "Is that what you think?"

"No—I mean yes. I mean yes and no. I know that you were being nice and all but maybe I kind of wanted to kiss you?" she said haltingly, nerves making her speech an incomprehensible blab, because Sasuke, who had been sitting comfortably only a moment ago was now deliberately walking towards her. By the time she'd stopped herself, he was standing just a foot away from her. His expression had flickered off and his eyes were glittering with…something.

Then before she could form a single comprehensible thought, his lips were on her mouth.

First, there was a moment of shock, where all there could be was instinct and all that was felt was pleasure tinged with the beginnings of realization.

Second, there was horror, when reality set in, context was given and suddenly the world was no longer as peachy as it had been a second ago.

Third, there was reflex, when Sakura acted on what she knew was happeneing but didn't think hard about what the consequences of what that action might be. All she knew was that someone who claimed to be honorable enough to not take advantage of her was now kissing her, without having asked her first. There was a term for what he was doing, and she didn't have to take it. She wanted to take it, but under the circumstances, it didn't feel quite right. Good thing her shoes were sturdy…

Sasuke tore his lips off of hers and staggered backwards, face twisting into a pained expression. "What is your problem?" he snapped, and as he clutched at the island behind him for balance, Sasuke tried to gauge how much damage could be done from a solid stomp to his instep, repeatedly. Who knew something like that could hurt so much.

"You just _kissed_ me!" Sakura accused, managing to jam such indignation in her voice that Sasuke actually felt the proverbial index finger pointing at him.

"Didn't you just say you _wanted_ to be kissed?" he shot, pinning her with narrowed eyes that, trying to understand how her mind worked.

In defiance of his thunderous glower, she flipped back her hair and said, "Only when I give you permission!"

"So last night you were giving me permission?" he asked flatly.

"Yes!"

"You were shaking like a leaf!"

"Only because I was tired!"

He scoffed majestically, telling her how ridiculous he found that statement without so much as a single word.

Sakura shirked beneath the tenacity of his look. "Okay so maybe I was a _little_ scared. Only because—you know."

He studied her with narrowed eyes. Then he shook his head, mystified but not quite.

Sakura squirmed in her seat, then looked up at him. "I'm sorry I stomped on your foot."

Sasuke grits his teeth against the throbbing of his instep when she tentatively touches his hand.

"It's—kind of a given that you do the do on your wedding night," she started, "and the fact that you didn't even try to get in my pants was—kind of insulting."

"Sakura," he said with such exasperation, it teetered on the brink of endearing, "I don't even know you. Don't you want to—…understand where this is going—where _we_ are going, before you take that step?"

Sakura soft smile morphed into a teasing smirk by the end of his impromptu declaration. She was back in her element and Sasuke understood that he would have to walk a steady line of utter vexation to understand the underlying seriousness of her next words. In that aspect, he despaired, he had married a very grown up child.

"I don't understand your prudishness," she started, "but I'm coming to understand your hazy integrity."

He didn't quite know whether to take it as a compliment or a thinly veiled insult.

"I guess we'll know, when the time is right. Right?"

She offered him a slim smile and he reluctantly returned it. It didn't bridge the gap between them, but it at least marked the spot where the bridge might one day be built. As Sakura started collecting the dishes, something changed. The tension that had been strung taut between them since the moment they met, now went slack.

 **x**

That night, clad in a knee length, full sleeved, boat necked and very, very backless dress, Sakura took pleasure in occasionally stomping on Sasuke's toes with the firm excuse of, "Hey, I never took a dancing class in my life prissy pants."

Sasuke bore it with haughty integrity and immoveable pride until—"Of all the fucking annoying, rude—" Sasuke caught his mother's anxious stare and warped his lips into a semblance of a smile at her to show that he was having a semi-marvelous time. The moment she looked away, he glared at Sakura murderously, but even she knew there was no spite in his eyes anymore. Not really.

Sakura's slow, lazy smirk made him choke on his ire, but as he spun her around and then caught her in a dip, her ridiculous peel of laughter softened the very honed edges of his heart.

He decided that he might have no choice but to get used to her maddening assiduity; that with the good, there always came the not-quite-bad, but certainly annoying.

 **x**

 _t_ _bc_


	6. Chapter 6

**Arranged**

 **Summary:** arranged marriage in the twenty-first century might be uncommon, but is not unheard of. "You don't 'court' me anymore."

 **Notes:**

i) **ON HIATUS!** .

ii) It's never as easy as it seems.

iii) A long time ago, I had an actual vision for this story. Now I struggle to remember what I envisioned. I just know that THIS was how it was supposed to _start_. Now I don't know which direction to coax it to.

 **x**

 _We are all searching for someone whose demons play well with ours._

 **x**

Sasuke had always been a creature of meticulous habit. All his possessions are carefully, even compulsively, put in their designated place. So seeing an upside down tooth brush in his bathroom is kind of a nasty blowback. So are the long strands of very pink hair in his shower drain. He can't quite figure out the inordinate amount of beauty products on the other side of the vanity and the sight of a completely drenched towel hanging on the holder makes his hackles rise.

Without saying a word, he rights the toothbrush, throws the towel in laundry and uses tweezers to clean out the drain. It's all becoming a part of his daily ritual. He bristles silently, but doesn't say a word.

 **x**

The fact that she couldn't cook was an innate sort of embarrassment. Fraught with imagined dooms, Sakura wonders what kind of impact that would have on their relationship, so she makes sure that most days, she ends up with an early morning shift. She makes sure she's out by the time Sasuke enters the kitchen, and sometimes, just to ease her conscience, she even pops up toast into the toaster.

When she returns, he's usually asleep. She feels a hollow pang in her chest but by that time she's too tired to pay it much mind. So she does her nightly routine and sleeps like a log.

 **x**

Sasuke's apartment was a desolate hodgepodge of new age modernism—sleek, cutting edge, aluminum, leather and stainless steel jungle. Sakura despairs and wonders if she'll ever be able to call this home.

For her home had always been the mango tree in the backyard and her mother's smile, the smell of fresh baked cookies and her father's lame jokes. She misses the bowl they threw the keys in, and she misses Kizashi's mochi cakes. Most of all, she misses her small, cluttered bedroom with an old fashioned window and the small balcony overlooking the street.

She misses home.

 **x**

"So how's married life, Forehead?" Ino asks.

She shrugs nonchalantly, then just to avoid farther query, says, "Good, I guess."

Ino doesn't take her word for it, but neither does she say anything, for which, Sakura is grateful.

 **x**

They settle into a mundane sort of an almost routine. He wakes up to Sakura hogging the majority of the bed, spread eagled, sometimes her legs dangling off the bed, and every morning, he wonders how is it that a woman of such small stature can manage to corner him into a nook every day.

He makes breakfast, and when she's home, she makes coffee. They both divide the dishes.

He works hard at the office and when he comes back, she's either there, but mostly not. So he fixes himself some dinner, leaves something in the fridge in case she's hungry—he marvels at the way there is less than nothing on the plate each morning—and sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night to her settling on her side or her pager going off.

The only thing that changes are the random moments that the pager beeps—sometimes, it's in the middle of breakfast, sometimes, it's the dead of the night. Each time, Sasuke doesn't question her. Until one day, she asks, "Doesn't it bother you?"

He looks at her curiously and lifts the mug full of coffee to his lips.

Apparently she's learned to understand his vague expressions by now because she says, "That I just run off."

He gives her a steady look and says, "Do you want it to?"

She shrugs and looks around the room uncomfortably. She's hesitant to reply. "Maybe?"

He nods solemnly and that is the last of that discussion.

 **x**

One day, she brings home a cheesecake.

It has been three months now and still, as if a fated sort of serendipity, they cannot find harmony in this life together. She still has an unpredictable schedule and he as an extraordinarily ordinary one. So the fact that they actually run into each other is quite a feat.

"What's that?" he asks.

"A cheesecake," she says with a tired smile.

"Oh," he says and shrugs out of his coat, then sits at the island. She has a steaming mug of tea in front of her and a small, round pot of a kettle sits in the middle of the table.

"Do you want some tea?" she asks carefully and he feels like he's being put through a test.

"I guess," he says uncomfortably.

She pours him a mug full and cuts off a perfect slice out of the cake. He takes out a fork from the cutlery basket on the side of the island and takes a small, soft, buttery bite of the cake that borders on dainty. It melts in his mouth immediately and he takes a sip of the tea to wash down the aftertaste. It, too, is sweet.

He tries to surreptitiously work his jaw to swallow the taste of sweet and folds his hands very carefully on granite table top. Naturally, she observes and Sasuke silently frets.

"What is it?" she asks.

He's reluctant to answer, but finds himself confessing anyway. "I don't like sweets."

It takes her moment for his words to sink in, after which she winces, then asks, "Every sweet?"

"Aa," he says.

She blinks at him in wonder and says very blithely, "That sucks."

Sasuke wholeheartedly agrees. She takes away his plate and puts it in the fridge along with her cake box, then disappears down the hall in the bedroom without saying a word.

Sasuke feels like he'd just failed a very important test in their relationship.

 **x**

Sakura understands what is wrong here. They're too different and there's nothing to bridge that stretch. She doesn't know him and he doesn't know her. He doesn't understand why she disappears each morning and comes home late; in retrospect she finds her reasons completely ridiculous and stupid. She wishes she could talk to him. She wishes he would talk to her.

 **x**

There is always a natural progression to things, but Sasuke is finding out that his marriage to Sakura is winding in the reverse order. Theirs seemed to have started backward and was only spiraling farther into the abyss.

"You don't 'court' me anymore," she says.

He thinks about it for a moment, determines the last time he took her out was before signing away his life to her and agrees. "Aa."

She bristles silently and he doesn't know why.

"Well I'll be off then," she says brusquely, jerking off her coat from the back of the chair angrily and striding out in a soft, barely there gust of human generated breeze, in the wake of which Sasuke wonders if he'd said something wrong.

What he doesn't understand is that every girl likes to be taken out once in a while, no matter how much they say otherwise.

 **x**

Sakura knew what she was getting herself into the moment she agreed to this marriage. But knowing something is going to happen and actually living through it are completely different things. She's come to realize that a loveless marriage can be like a fruitless tree; useless, disappointing yet at the same time, self-sustaining. And she wonders if this is how her life would still be like years from now.

She remembers being clinical about it, looking at it with the detached assessment of an empirical scientist and now her heart tells her how foolish she had been. Because lying next to Sasuke's warm body she finds herself yearning to be wrapped in his embrace. She watches as his frame rises and dips rhythmically and she wants to reach out and cup his cheek in her hand, hook her leg around his middle and burrow into his chest.

She doesn't. Because right now, her husband is still a complete stranger. They share a bed but little else. So she curbs her feelings and wills them to evanescence into the wispy tendrils of indeterminable thoughts.

Then, she assumes the impersonal analytic that forced her into this situation in the first place, and falls into the dreamless void of sleep.

 **x**

Suigetsu requests a meeting in professional capacity. They meet at a downtown café near the Uchiha Corp. building. At eighteen, Suigetsu had discovered an inherent talent with chemistry, and with a little probing and a whole lot of manipulation, they'd managed to send him off to college. Now, at almost thirty, he was a successful enough chemical engineer that corporate honchos paid a lot of money to head hunters to recruit him.

To Sasuke, though, he would always be the idiot who once took a blade in the chest for him.

They meet in the afternoon. Suigetsu greets him with his usual crude demeanor and Sasuke sits down with fed-up disposition of an eighty year old grandma who's just about done with this world.

"Aw, man," he says, "you wouldn't believe how big Hana's gotten!"

Sasuke entertains him with a blithe look that acts as his default with Suigetsu. He very much loves Hana, though he'd be caught dead before he ever admits it to anyone.

After Suigetsu has exhausted all his Hana related anecdotes and Karin related woes, they get down to business. Suigetsu proposes a new product and they hash out the specifics. Sasuke finds that he actually likes Suigetsu's line of thought, and with the far reaching credibility of his company's name, this product could go far. So, he asks him to prepare a presentation for the board.

"I'll let you know when the board is available," he tells Suigetsu, leaning back in his seat and feeling his mind relaxing from the chokehold of his life for just a second.

"How's the wifey?" asks Suigetsu, waggling his brow suggestively.

"Fine," Sasuke snaps, as is his usual

Suigetsu nods in solemn understanding. "I get it, man."

Sasuke feels the choke hold brutally envelop his brain again. He feels several of his veins pound painfully and levels a lethal glare at Suigetsu. "What exactly do you get?" he asks with such rhetoric that Suigetsu completely misses the point of the question.

"You," says Suigetsu with careless abandon, "living with a girl for the first time."

Sasuke feels his anger boil down to a sulky simmer.

"They nag the hell out of you," says Suigetsu, remising Sasuke's frightful demeanor as usual. "Put the lid on the toilet, bring me this, bring me that, pick up the baby when and when!" Suigetsu mimes in a high pitched voice that Sasuke thinks, must be his impersonation of Karin.

"It sucks," says Suigetsu, finally matching the tired slump of Sasuke's shoulders.

Sasuke, on the other hand draws parallels with his relationship to Sakura and what Suigetsu just explained, and it suddenly pings in his mind, that the thing that is completely missing in their's was communication.

He never told her how much the hair in the drain bothered him. She never told him what bothered her. When they'd met for the very first time, they'd been straight with each other; honest to the point of embarrassing and it had bridged some unfathomable gap. Now, the two of them were an archipelago of islands so distant, he didn't know where to even start.

 **x**

Sasuke is not unaware of Sakura's discontent. He knows he's doing something very wrong, and yet he can't figure out how to fix it. While previously, there had been a spark, a kind of ignomible undercurrent that ran the gamut of their relationship, now, they tolerated each other in frosty silence, not quite knowing how to bridge this gap of strangeness.

From the very start it has been very clear to him that he and Sakura were two very different people with very different interests. Statistically, their relationship had been a veritable failure from the get go, and yet they had still gone through with it. Something, he thinks, must've been at work; fate, destiny, some divine will. Because he is here, and he knows very little other then the very barebones of Sakura—her pet peeves, her dedication, her go-to's, her most-of-everything. He finds himself actually wanting to make an effort.

So one fine morning, while having a perpetually silent breakfast, he says very casually, "I'll drop you off at the hospital."

He pauses with a fork halfway into her mouth. Then she takes her bite, chews and swallows, all very leisurely. "That's very kind of you," she says coolly, "but I don't know when I'll get off. It might be the middle of the night. Not having a car would be inconvenient,"

Sasuke understands the logic of her denial, and nods his disappointment.

"But," she starts again, a little bit of that spark back in her voice, "I would like it very much if you would join me for lunch."

Her smile is kind and he knows that this invitation to lunch is a silent nod of approval to his very inconsiderate almost word vomit. "Aa," he says, a small smile tugging the side of his mouth.

 **x**

That morning after their wedding had marked a small step in the direction of a very covetous matrimony. It had fizzled out in the aftermath of their very busy, very ambitious lives. Her decision to get married had been fueled by an unorthodox mixture of slight avarice and ambition. Her decision to make this marriage work would be fueled by a desire for a fulfilling and content life—with a side dose of moderate ambition.

And she would make this effort because today, Sasuke had proved that he was willing to meet her half way.

 **x**

He doesn't make it to lunch.

Instead, he has his secretary call to inform her of the impromptu board meeting. The fact that he didn't have the decency to call her himself makes her rage all the more. She looks at the various gourmand accoutrements she'd ordered and feels an ache in her gut so powerful that tears start collecting in her eyes.

She takes a forkful of pasta and shoves it in her mouth, chews mournfully and let the tears fall. She thanks all the deities she's aware of that Ino's in the OR helping out in a hours long surgery and swallows thickly. Her throat burns and her temper flares and she berates herself for feeling this way.

Cast in the gloom of an ominous emotional cloud, she sulks around the hospital all day. Around seven in the evening she gets a call from Sasuke. Without attending, she puts her phone on airplane mode and busies herself in the pediatric ward. She manages to avoid Ino all day, and when her shift ends late at night, she flops down in a seat in one of the OR observation cells and watches various superiors skillfully mend numerous injuries. She makes mental notes and tries to mimic the hand movements. Then around 5 in the morning, they lose a patient.

Unbidden she starts crying. She cries for the person trapped on that gurney, being willfully electrocuted into existence, she cries for the family that would never be the same, and she cries for herself; the inordinate amount of intangible pain she'd inadvertently caused herself by being too cocky and conceited.

She aches for one of Naruto's hugs, the warmth and safety of them. She aches for her mother and her stern ordnance. She aches for her father and his loveable smiles. And when she's done aching and wanting and wishing and praying; she pulls herself together and she goes home.

 **x**

Sasuke doesn't understand when they reached this point of impasse. He doesn't understand when and how and where he got saddled with the responsibility of a human being other than himself. He thinks back to all those months ago and he wonders what he was thinking, agreeing to such a preposterous solicitation. He still feels unprepared and clueless and in way over his head.

He wishes he could return back to the time when his parents had to sign his permission slips. Then he recalls that it was his mother who'd signed this particular slip and shoved it in his hands to do as he please. Then he massages his temples and wishes for some peace.

When his thoughts still churn with uncalled for worry, he arranges the cheesecake in the middle of the fridge just so, so when she opens the lid, it'd be the first thing she sees.

At midnight, he indulges in his nightly ritual, tries her phone again, gets rebuffed once more and slips into bed. His mind immediately flashes to all the times of his life that he'd inadvertently messed up and he understands first hand the meaning of the phrase an idle minds and devil's playfields. The sound of the city permeates the room and he tosses and turns and even tries to think up a suitable catch phrase for Suigetsu product.

His mind recalls Naruto's words of a loveless marriage predetermined to a dark doom and in the aftermath of that thought he finally falls asleep. He dreams of long, dimly lit corridors of the Sound home base, the unnatural stretch of Orochimaru's tongue and Naruto standing on the side telling him he's the one who deserves to die while he holds onto a bleeding Suigetsu, trying to curb the flow of blood oozing from his chest.

He wakes up just as the other side of the bed dips. He hears her sigh—a morose, tired sort of a sound, as she settles under the covers.

He feels like he's on the brink of something large, teetering precariously, and if he doesn't start fixing this now, he would fall into an abyss so dark and deep any attempt at coming back would be obsolete. He shifts on his side to better face her, but she's wrapped up tightly in the duvet and all he can see of her is an uneven silhouette.

"Sakura," he says, and in the silence of the night and the darkness of the room, his voice sounds uncharacteristically desperate.

He feels her fall still; her shifting, her breathing, her everything.

In the ensuing silence, he doesn't know what else to say. So he clears his throat, to clear out a persistent frog and curses his willful hermit like behavior. Then he sits up and switches his bedside lamp to life. "Sakura," he says again, this time more in control of himself.

She doesn't move, but does dole out a muffled, "G'night, Sasuke."

"Get up, Sakura," he orders gently, completely ignoring her silent apathy.

She throws back the duvet, then, and he sees that she's wide awake and when their eyes meet he notices that hers are shining with a mighty fury. "What?" she snaps.

For a nerve wrecking moment he doesn't know what to say. Then he thinks that apologizing for today's mistreatment might be a start. "I apologize," he starts, tentatively, "for not making it today."

She nods her acquiescence, but the furrow in her brow never leaves, neither does the downward tug of her mouth. She does however, sit up and leans against the headboard, and Sasuke takes it as a cue to continue. "There was a meeting—"

"Aren't there always," she says tiredly and Sasuke bristles at the implication of those words. They imply that he'd forever ignored her in lieu of something else, and that this would always be his regular excuse. His temper prickled at the edges of his conscience _. I haven't known you long enough_ , he wanted to say, but held himself back.

"Yes," he says instead, tersely, "there are. It is my job."

"To attend meetings?" she says dryly.

"Yes," he says, curtly, knowing how ridiculous he sounded.

"No, but there will always be a meeting, right?" she says in such an offhand way, Sasuke feels it like a slap to the face. Somewhere outside, a bird chirps and he looks at the curtains, trying to peer through them at the barely there blue of the early morning outside.

Then he exhales tiredly and says, "I'm sorry."

She looks at him, and in her eyes is a kind of mania of the sleep deprived. "Don't you get it, Sasuke?" she says, "There's _always_ going to be something else and you are always going to be sorry about that!"

Sasuke recoils but she barely notices. Her head is in her hands and Sakura—belligerent, recalcitrant, obstinate, Sakura is shaking with exhaustion and tears.

Sasuke doesn't know what to do, so he just sits there and waits out the storm. He wonders if this is how it would always be; them, at completely opposite ends of the spectrum, not being able to reach one another.

After a long while, she calms down. Small pin pricks of light are infiltrating through the drapes and crow is cawing with all its might. He suspects his alarm is going to go off soon. He reaches out a hesitant hand and he takes heart when she doesn't immediately swat it away. He puts it on her shoulder, heavy and comforting and says, "It's a mess."

She nods a weary agreement and sniffles. His hand slides down her arm and he grabs her hand. She lets him. They stay like that for a few moments, still and quiet.

"I really want this to work," she says at last, gazing into his eyes with a piercing intensity that nearly takes his breath away.

He lets out a sigh of relief. "Aa."

"How can we do that if you're in insensitive jackass and I'm… _me_?" she says, a bit of her innate spark back in her voice.

He tries not to let her brusqueness cut too deep. He understands very well that he's not the best at personal interactions and being a husband, was turning out to be a jarring task.

"We'll try," he says, then hesitantly, tugs her hand. "May I?" he asks tentatively.

She nods, unsure of his intentions and blushes when he brushes his lips at the back of her hand.

Her smile comes slow and hesitant, but it comes, and in its wake, Sasuke feels a small spark of hope ignite in the dark of their relationship.

 **x**

 _tbc_


	7. Chapter 7

**Arranged**

 **Summary** : Arranged marriage in the twenty-first century might be uncommon, but is not unheard of. "So what bothers you more; your mom or your boyfriend."

 **Notes:**  
For haruno-will-of-fire, for being the big sister I never had.

 **x**

 _In a world full of temporary things, you are a perpetual feeling. - Sanober Khan_

 **x**

"Your hair clogs the shower drain," he tells her, then takes a supercilious sip of his coffee.

"Well," she says, "you never have enough sugar cubes in the pot."

They sit at the kitchen island in their pajama's, a make-do of a conference table, hashing out the itty bitties of why their relationship had suddenly taken the fast track to nowhere.

"You never throw the towel into the laundry."

"That's because it'll eventually _dry_."

"In an enclosed space at a constant, minimal temperature?" he asks incredulously.

"Yes."

"You're disgusting."

"Your _face_ is disgusting!"

They stare at each other in electrified silence, then Sakura cuts herself a large piece of cake and says, " _You_ sure have a lot to complain about."

She'd called in sick, and so had he. Now they sat in loaded silence trying to work out the intricacies of their marriage. It was time-consuming, nerve wracking and extremely painful.

Sasuke gave her a measured look. "Don't you?"

She shrugged and put a large forkful of cake into her mouth, then closed her eyes in ecstasy. Sasuke had a feeling that he might just be railing at thin air, then. Nevertheless, he watched in frowning silence as she loaded her plate with another humongous piece of cake.

"Your absolute lack of sweet tooth offends me," she said.

"You always make a mess of things."

"Your miso is subpar, at best."

"You can't even cook!"

"Not true!" she retorted, "I can make a mean banana pudding!"

"That is not proper food."

"You'd never know now, would you?" she countered.

They stared at each other for five humming seconds and then Sakura laughed. The sound of it made something in Sasuke's chest unfurl; the rigid set of his shoulders relaxed and he let out a breath.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she asked with a careful voice.

"Why didn't _you_?" he countered.

Outside, night had fallen; the sound of the city was louder than ever and the huge billboards on the adjacent building blocked any and all glimpses of the dark sky.

"I guess," Sakura said, "we were so busy trying not to make it fall apart that we didn't realize there was nothing to protect, yet."

Sasuke thought about it; how in the beginning, everything seemed to be going with relative smoothness. He'd thought it would work out fine and then before he knew it, he was sharing his home with a complete and utter stranger that never seemed to be there. "Aa," he said.

"Thank you," she said then, eyes soft and shining. "For making us talk about it."

He could feel his embarrassment coloring the top of his cheeks and neatly averted his eyes. He fiddled with the handle of his coffee cup and almost startled when she got off the stool and walked to him.

"May I?" she asked, smiling slyly and immediately Sasuke was on his guard.

"No," he said curtly, looking her straight in the eye.

"Too bad," she said, grabbing him by the shell of his ear and giving him a loud, lingering and very wet peck on the cheek, which Sasuke promptly wiped off.

 **x**

Later in the week, they decided to meet for lunch. This time, Sakura didn't bother with food. In fact, she diligently worked her ass off, kept her phone in the pocket of her scrubs and even helped in the neurology department before being unceremoniously kicked out.

At one on the dot, her phone buzzed and she steeled herself for a possible excuse. "Hey?"

"Where _are_ you?" his voice was annoyed and just a tad desperate. In the background she could almost hear Ino going at him.

"Will be right down, sweetheart," she said mockingly and touched the end icon before he could say anything else.

When she got down to reception, sure enough, Ino was just rounding off an arm in flourish and Sasuke stood at her side, looking pained and anxious. She wondered if he looked like that when _she_ was telling him something.

"I will take it from here, Ino-chan," said Sakura, affectionately looping an arm around Ino's neck.

"Ah, Sakura," Ino grinned mischievously, "I was just telling dear ol' Sasuke about that time we beat that guy to a bloody pulp and left him under the bleachers to rot because he pissed us off!"

"Ah, yes," said Sakura cheerfully, having no memory of any such incident. But she understood this was Ino's customized threat to Sasuke. _Make her happy or you'll be next,_ it said in violent undertones.

"Anyways, take care, Sasuke," she said, and gave Sakura a completely inappropriate kiss on the cheek before taking off. It said, _I'll be there if he screws up again_ , and Sakura had never been more grateful.

Sasuke, hands stuffed in the pockets of his expensive looking slacks, shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

"I have thirty minutes," she said, "if they don't get an emergency and page me. There's a pizza place down the street. Move it."

Down the street turned out to be eight blocks away and by the time they got there, Sakura could tell Sasuke was just this side of the are-we-there-yet wagon.

"I thought you had thirty minutes," he said, shrugging off his coat and draping it on the back of his chair.

"I do," she said, handing him the menu. "Ino will cover for me."

"Oh."

She talked him into ordering a twenty-inch fajita and ordered him to bring the left-over's home. "I don't want to eat bland rice tonight," she smirked.

"You're an ungrateful brat," he replied.

"So what did you do today?"

"Suigetsu made his presentation to the board," he told her.

"Oh, how did it go?" she asked and he was surprised by the genuine excitement in her demeanor. She'd..taken an unanticipated liking to Suigetsu that worried Sasuke. His threats of bodily harm had been forgotten in light of his cheerful disposition. _He's like a really violent Naruto_ , she'd said. Sasuke had shuddered.

"It went well. It's in marketing right now."

"Well I hope he gets a sweet deal out of it."

"He did," Sasuke assured her.

A humongous pizza was put in front of them. Sakura cut him a piece and then cut herself an even bigger one.

"What did you do today?" he asked, rigidly cutting a small bite of his pie and taking a proper, well rationed bite.

"Fixed an appendicitis, made my rounds, helped out in neuro," she said breezily, foregoing all etiquette and stuffing a huge mouthful straight out of hand.

"No big surgeries?" he asked, frowning at her lack of decorum.

"Not yet," she replied.

On the walk back to the hospital, Sakura yawned and stretched. "Just one more year," she said.

Sasuke looked at her curiously. "Of what?" he asked.

She stretched again, her back arching and stumbled a little into his side. He caught her by the elbow and straightened her. She shot him a grateful smile and said, "Of Residency."

"Hm," said Sasuke, recalling the terms of their marriage. Just to gauge her reaction, he asked, "What will you do after?"

"Well," she said, lips tugging in a half-smirk, "Itachi said he'll hook me up with Tsunade Senju." At the mention of which her eyes lit up like fireworks. He could see the metaphorical stars in her eyes.

"Really?" he asked dryly.

"Hell yeah!"

"And what if he doesn't?"

"I'll file for a divorce." The tone of her voice was serious, but the inflection of her words told him otherwise. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but ask, "Really?"

She looked straight ahead, didn't answer him for a few seconds and just when he thought she never would, she said, "Maybe. I don't know."

He didn't say anything, but he did feel her indecision like a punch to the gut.

"It's just that, I can't really imagine anyone else in your place anymore," she continued consideringly. He snapped his head sideways, barely catching the red in her cheeks before she looked away. They hadn't exactly lived a charmed life so far, and the fact that she couldn't imagine someone else as her husband made it feel like an honor to have her as his wife.

"I mean it's been awful so far," she said so candidly that he almost missed a step, "but when I try to imagine anyone else as my _husband_ …it's just—I just— _you_!"

Sasuke's heart beat like a drum.

" _You_ pop in my head! It is so _irritating_!" she snapped.

"…I'm sorry?" he asked somberly.

She shot him an annoyed glance. "Can _you_ imagine anyone else as your wife?"

He tried to think about it; of all the girls that he himself could have chosen, all of whom he could count on his pinky finger. Then he shrugged noncommittally.

She gasped, suddenly outraged and punched him on the arm with enough force to make him stumble. The pizza box with the leftovers almost fell down. "You do!" she whispered vehemently. "You _do_!"

He opened his mouth to deny but she held up her hand in the universal signal of 'stop'. "I don't want to hear it."

So he kept his mouth shut and tried very hard to retain a neutral expression.

Sasuke was looking forward again and Sakura was surprised to notice that he had dimples—or rather, one dimple. He was pressing his lips together, trying to keep from smirking, or smiling or maybe even laughing. Only once in their acquaintanceship had she heard him actually laugh, so even though she knew he would be laughing at _her_ she leaned sideways and walked on the tips of her toes to peer at his face. "Let it _out_ , man! Before it gets trapped in your body and tears through your internal organs!"

"Let what out?" Sasuke asked.

"That laugh. _A_ laugh. You know I think you try really, really hard not to," observed Sakura. She bumped her shoulder into his arm and smiled at him. Sasuke stared at her thoughtfully.

"I smile," he said, defensive.

"Rarely," she said easily.

"If something is funny, I laugh," Sasuke insisted. They were standing outside the hospital gates; the entrance was five minutes away.

Sakura cocked her head to the side and her eyes twinkled in a silent laugh. "We'll see." Then she squeezed his arm and said, "See you tonight?"

"Aa," he said, still thoughtful.

And she back peddled to the hospital until all he saw of her was the blue scrubs and decidedly distinctive pink hair.

 **x**

"You were a total prick when we first met," she told him one day.

He was reading over the report from the marketing department and only nodded, not actually hearing what she'd said.

"I can't believe I _married_ you."

"Hmm."

"Are you even listening to me?"

He tore his eyes off the various pie charts and gave her an irritated look.

She sat cross legged on the bed, several study materials spread around her, giving him a smooth unflappable look.

He sighed and slid off his glasses, carefully setting them on the side table. "What?"

"Nothing."

He gave her a look.

"Ok, fine," she relented. "You look really sexy with the glasses."

A little dazed by her bluntness, Sasuke gave her an astonished, slightly open-mouthed stare.

"What?" she said blithely, "I'm _hardly_ a nun." But a blush was steadfastly burning itself onto her face.

"Do you—are you—?" he started, not being able to bring himself to finish that thought.

"No," she said, embarrassed now. "Do y—"

" _No_ ," he snapped inarguably and grabbed his file, squinting at the numbers but not comprehending them. His heart was thundering in his chest and his hands felt slightly numb. The accursed blush was searing itself on his face again.

"Um…?"

He completely ignored her attempt at starting conversation again and tried very hard to understand the statistics of the survey report.

"Can I—um, hug you…or something?"

What Sakura wanted to ask was if she could drape herself all over him and around him and just—not feel lonely when there was a perfectly good pillow right there lying next to her. What Sasuke heard was could she wrap herself around him in a completely innocuous way, which was more brutal a metaphorical punch than if she would have requested to actually kiss him. The file fell from his hands and the hammering of his heart reached a record point before he finally took a deep breath to slow it down. He couldn't say anything in return and eventually, he saw her hide behind a wall of her research paraphernalia.

Later, when the lights were off and they were both on the opposite sides of the bed; as far away as they could get, he shifted, reached out and wound an arm around her waist loosely, so that if it was unwelcome, she'd be able to pull away.

For a moment, she went completely still, no rhythmic breathing, not even the slightest tremble, then she grabbed his arm and turned around, wrapped a leg around his middle and an arm around his chest. Secured and bound, pressed tightly against him, she sighed a sigh of such contentment; even Sasuke's thoughts went blank. His arm hovered awkwardly under the duvet, unsure of where to be put, until he gingerly put it around her middle.

It was a warm sort of embrace; nothing remotely suggestive about it and Sasuke swallowed past the newness and amiability of it all.

In the morning, he found himself cornered in his usual enclosure of the bed while Sakura sprawled diagonally over the rest.

 **x**

December was already chasing on the heels of October and Mikoto had finally lost her patience. She fluttered around the house, a powerhouse of raw, unexpendable energy and when Deidara finally up and abandoned Itachi, she practically moved into his apartment. Now that Sasuke was married, it was time for Itachi to be her pet project again. She was there when he woke up and she was there when he went to sleep; it was almost like he was still a child who had never left home. Moreover she'd taken to setting him up with people. Itachi never knew where she found those men, until one day, he caught her browsing an online dating site with a fake profile. Right on the header, in hot pink bold, it read; _single and ready to mingle_. He shot her a withering, reproachful glare, wordlessly conveying all his disbelief and impiety and in return she gave him a look of such motherly effusiveness that his gaze became listless and torpid.

So he took a deep breath, went into his room, threw on his most expensive Armani, pretended he was almost late for an early morning rendezvous and hid himself in Sasuke's apartment. Of course Sakura was there and of course she was half asleep and of course she screamed half the building awake before realizing who it was.

Itachi found himself dizzy and light-headed, barely holding on to the tethers of his sanity, rigidly and politely spooning a mouthful of Chocopuffs with detached apathy because Sakura couldn't cook to save her life. After, he was led to the guest bedroom where he crashed and promptly lost all consciousness.

When he came to, it took him a while to realize where he was.

In the kitchen Sasuke fumbled with various pots and pans while Sakura was nowhere in sight. Itachi slumped all the way to the kitchen island and slid onto the stool, then flopped his head into his hand and sighed in resignation.

Sasuke wordlessly put a plate full of pasta in front of him and seated himself.

"Are you alright?"

Itachi decided he needn't deign anyone with a response to that question, just yet.

"Sakura called."

"Aa."

Sasuke had trouble conversing in the most mundane of situations. Itachi figured he must have been shriveling up on the inside right about then. Itachi never could watch Sasuke wrestle with his emotions.

"Mother has been driving me up the wall," he told him.

Sasuke's eyes widened in understanding and he nodded his empathy. "You can stay as long as you want."

Itachi nodded his thanks and swallowed a forkful of pasta.

 **x**

Sakura returned sometime after midnight. By then Itachi had fixed himself studiously in the living room couch with the history channel on. He ignored her and in turn she ignored him. But later that night, when he got up for a drink of water, he caught them talking in the kitchen.

Naturally, he eavesdropped.

"Mother was being…slightly dogmatic," he heard Sasuke say, while carefully peeling an apple.

"That's a brilliant euphuism for overbearing and nosy," said Sakura, shuffling a stack of papers and stacking them neatly on the side of the island.

Sasuke didn't say anything; just meticulously cut the apple into perfect little slices and handed the plate to her.

Sakura took a slice and bit into it. "So how long will he be staying," she asked genially. Right then, Itachi prepared to present himself with a dignified flourish, but in the end he didn't, because Sasuke said, "As long as he needs."

At that moment Itachi's shoulders slumped and his heart brimmed with overwhelming love for Sasuke. How long would he need indeed, he asked himself. Just until Mikoto busied herself elsewhere, he assured himself.

Then he sighed and went back to his room. Maybe he was going be Sasuke's houseguest for a while.

 **x**

In the kitchen, Sakura massaged her neck and sighed tiredly. "Why did his boyfriend dump him?"

"I didn't ask."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not nosy," he said loftily, his nose in the air.

Sakura didn't have the energy to bristle, so she just gave him a dispassionately bland stare. How Sasuke managed to act like a semi conceited ass at two in the morning was beyond her. She slid him his paperwork and got up to leave for their room.

She had barely taken four steps when she heard the facet switch on. Bewildered, she turned around and saw Sasuke watering the plate before putting it in the dishwasher. "I was going to _do_ that in the _morning_!"

"Aa," he said smoothly.

Sakura rubbed her head and fired an irritated "neat freak" to his back, then turned around to go, stopped, couldn't quite help herself and stomped back to kick him in the shin. Gently.

Sasuke shot her an exasperated look.

 **x**

Itachi had long since perfected the art of sleek, polished ponytail. Now it hung past his shoulders in a smooth, silken, expensive looking plait and had the utmost distinction of being the bane of Mikoto's existence.

Itachi had always prided himself for emulating the latest vogue, but today, he had called the office, requested his father to reign in Mother and now sat again, in the living room vegetating in front of the history channel, hair loose and dangling in lustrous waterfall at the back of the couch.

There was a kind of peace in that state of mind that he hadn't felt in years. Tomorrow, he decided he would return back to reality. He closed his eyes, letting the serenity of the muted, high-rise living and the droning voice of the documentary narrator lull him into tranquility.

Then there was an unceremonious bang and his eyes shot open. Sakura padded around the kitchen fixing herself a microwaved meal. Frowning Itachi resigned himself to the noisy turbulence.

"Want some Instant Ramen?" she called out.

Itachi, who had his taste buds refined to gourmet meals since birth, gave her such a look, one might have thought she'd asked him to lick the floor. "I will not."

He had always prided himself for barely eschewing to his snobbish side—any other day, he would have politely declined, but he was scarcely holding on to his sanity now a days, so this small outburst, was kind of like a reprieve.

"Suit yourself."

They shared the apartment in static silence for a while. Then Sakura came and sat by his side. Itachi didn't know her very well—and he felt a small prick of shame, because she _was_ his brother's wife and he'd literally bribed her into marrying him—so he didn't know what to expect; if he ought to start a conversation, stay silent, offer her the remote. He didn't know. So he kept his mouth wisely shut.

"Do you…want to talk about it?" she asked tentatively, after a few moments had passed.

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, gauging her, judging her, trying to appraise her sincerity. Then, in clipped, curt tones that he was too tired to soften, he said, "No."

"Okay."

He grunted and tried to focus on the documentary.

"This is so boring."

"Then go away."

"My apartment. My living room. _You_ go away."

Itachi felt a burning sensation in his chest. His nose twitched in displeasure. "I refuse to indulge your childish argument," he said quietly.

"Cranky, aren't we."

The air was thick with tension that only Itachi could feel. He felt slow, like he was treading through murky, tepid water and Sakura was the crocodile. But he was not an irrational person. Like his brother, Itachi was a meticulous being—maybe even more so. So he reigned in all his frustration and said in a measured, very polite tone, "Do you not have a person to cut into?"

Her gaze was blasé. "Not until a few hours."

"Splendid."

"You should know that I'm practically immune to all your patented glares and desperate evading."

"Great."

"Also, you should never coop up all your feelings, especially the negative ones. I'm only trying to help you."

"Yes, I am aware, thank you."

"Talk to me. Before you explode."

"You," Itachi breathes laboriously, "are _annoying_."

In response, Sakura raised an eyebrow, gesturing in the universal sign of 'continue' with a kind of a languid grace.

Itachi fumed silently, then let out a martyred sigh and began, almost in a monologue, "Deidara up and left, because he said I was too…unavailable—emotionally unattached. Then mother showed up and she's being incredibly…unyielding."

"Hmm," said Sakura, thoughtful. "So what bothers you more; your mom or your boyfriend."

Itachi gave her a wounded, almost reproachful glare. " _Both_."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Itachi gave her a disbelieving look, but didn't broach any farther. He felt…sickly—like he'd shared too much with a person he didn't know very well. His shoulders itched with the burden of it. So just to spite her a little, he said very stiffly, "Please give my mother some grandchildren, soon. It will make everyone's life easier."

As he'd anticipated, it made her angry. "Reign in the misogyny, won't you?"

His face was impassive, rigidly polite and unforgiving as he said with all the heart of his inner five year old, " _You_ started it."

"Well you're the one who's been moping around like a little girl!"

"Says the woman who has yet to consummate her marriage!"

Sakura gasped in outrage, sputtered unbelievingly, took a deep breath to compose herself and finally narrowed her eyes in fury. "Says the man who bribes people into marrying their brother!"

"Says the woman who gets bribed."

It hit him then, the complete and utter absurdity of the situation, and unbidden, a laugh escaped him. It started with small, barely audible chuckles that made his shoulders quake and ended with them both bent double, gasping for breath and Itachi couldn't remember the last time he let go like that.

Then Sakura said, "Please don't tell Mikoto?"

Strangely uplifted, he pretended to think about it.

"Or I'll tell her you have a secret crush on my friend Naruto!" she threatened.

He raised his brows. "Really?"

"He's engaged and the son of a very prominent politician," she clarified.

Itachi shuddered to think the length his mother would go to, to get him with this Naruto. Impressed, he said, "Diabolical."

Sakura shot him a sharp smirk. "I learned from the best," she said.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"It's a deal then."

 **x**

Itachi left that night and Sasuke was only slightly bewildered.

"He had guy stuff," Sakura told him.

"Guy stuff?" Sasuke asked, unimpressed and she shrugged.

Later, they ate dinner in silence and Sasuke had the sudden premonition that he was waiting for a volcano to erupt. Halfway through, very politely, she asked, "Did you tell your brother we haven't had sex yet?"

He froze—felt the room close in around him, heard the metaphorical boom in the distance. The volcano had erupted and the lava was slowly spreading under his feet. Then he blinked and took a bite of his Onigiri to stall.

"I didn't," he replied carefully in a strangely mute voice. And he hadn't. It had been one of those strangely awkward conversations that happen on their own, without anyone being the wiser.

Suigetsu had invited himself to lunch again and Itachi had insisted on tagging along—having lunch with Fugaku was an experience that no one wanted to have twice. Carefully inspecting his trey of _takoyaki_ , Sasuke had taken a dainty bite. Suigetsu had snorted disdainfully and Sasuke had shot him a scathing look.

"Sakura must suck at lovin' if you're still a prickly ass."

In a muted flurry of rage, Sasuke had unwittingly blurted, "I wouldn't know."

Everyone had gone completely still. Suigetsu, especially had been struck silent. No one had had the audacity to speak after.

Now, looking at Sakura's impassive face, he could feel how brittle the ground he walking on actually was. He knew her fury was swift and terrible and so, he braced himself for the blowback.

"You didn't?" she asked genially.

Sasuke fidgeted a little. "Not…intentionally."

"Not intentionally?"

Restless with apprehension, he snapped, "Don't repeat what I'm saying."

Her face was stony as she cleaned up her plate and put it in the dishwasher. Then she turned to him and said, "Listen to me carefully, Sasuke. Whatever happens—or _doesn't_ happen—in that room is between me and you. Do you understand?"

Ashamed and humiliated, he nodded his head like a dunced child.

When he laid down to sleep he realized belatedly that this time, Sakura's fury was going to be slow and simmering; for she lay on the opposite side of the bed legs up and facing the headboard.

 **x**

She was gone before he woke up.

Ino picked up when he called so he promptly hung up.

He absolutely refused to speak with Itachi until absolutely necessary.

During lunch, he strolled to the nearest Deli and bought the biggest, chippiest, delicious looking chocolate chip cookie. Then he stared at it. And when he'd had enough of that, he tried taking a bite. His finely tuned taste buds screamed in horror and his nerve receptors cringed in disapproval as he quickly swallowed without chewing. He threw the rest of the cookie into the trash and walked back to the office.

When he returned home, she wasn't there.

 **x**

"Are we going to talk about this?" he asked the next morning. She'd arranged a processed looking muffin onto her plate and ate it with relish. His mouth still tingled with the phantom taste of the cookie and he gulped a huge sip of bitter, black coffee to wash it away.

Very deliberately, she took a bite, then blinked at him innocently. "Talk about what?"

She was going to make him say it, he thought angrily. Before his short fuse could flip, he rolled his eyes and took a deep, calming breath, opened his mouth to say the words that still wouldn't come. Silently, he fumed, then looked around his state of the art kitchen. He spotted a butter knife and thought about having a go at it, caught himself just as his mind slipped to Suigetsu taking one for him and drowned in a well blended smoothie of shame, guilt and resentment.

Then he grit his teeth and said, "Yesterday," bristling with the indignation of it.

"Yesterday?" she asked with a mocking flourish of her arm and wide eyes.

"About Itachi?" he muttered through clenched teeth, seething with indignation now.

"Itachi?" she gasped, "Did something happen to him?"

" _Please_."

Her expression was set into a languorous smirk and she cupped her cheek in her hand. The tilt of her head was dripping with mockery and Sasuke was teetering on the brink of humiliation and resentment.

"Please," he said again with less force, averting his eyes.

He heard the sigh she exhaled. "Okay, let's talk."

He slanted her an inconspicuously narrow eyed look.

"Let's talk about the complete and utter humiliation I felt in the moment where my brother-in-law gloated to my face about the fact that I still hadn't slept with my husband."

Something cold and icy trickled down his spine.

"No? Let's talk about how much I trust you now. Not a lot Sasuke, not a lot."

A sudden burning fire lit up in the pit of his stomach and he felt like the coffee he'd just drank was the fuel of it. Her eyes were shining with a sheen of tears she was too stubborn to cry.

"Let's talk about how completely betrayed I felt when I realized that _you_ —the person who I'm supposed to trust the most in this world—talked behind my back."

Swallowing his desperation he opened his mouth to stop her but then a single tear fell down her cheek and he felt his lungs caving in his chest.

"Let's talk about how that made me feel about myself," she said softly, sniffling past the tears and hiccupping with the force of it.

He didn't know what to say, didn't understand what anyone would do in a situation like this. He felt desperately inadequate, unequipped to handle this angry, brittle side of her. He wanted to break Itachi's jaw. His knuckles itched with the premonition of it. Finally, very quietly, he said, "It wasn't like that."

She didn't reply for a long time. "I know."

Her voice was thick with tears and his shoulders weighed with the heaviness of it.

"I just—can't help think that way."

Hesitantly, he reached out for her hand. It was cold and a little damp with the wetness of her tears. Then he reached out for the other one and enveloped both of hers with his big ones. "Please don't ever think of me like that," he said gently.

She blinked, looked at the granite of the counter, but didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry," he said, gently rubbing his hands over hers to draw away the cold, "that you ever had to think of yourself like that. I'm sorry you felt the way you did. It was never my intention to make you feel like you were anything less then you are."

She was crying silently again. "I—" she hiccupped, "It was _awful_. Why did you tell him?" Her reproach was childlike and her voice was wounded, and the crack of it made his brain ring with anger and shame.

"I didn't," he insisted. He desperately didn't want to reiterate the incident—his pride would bruise a bloody black and blue, possibly never to recover again, but right then, with her nose pink from sniffling and her eyes red with hurt he couldn't have denied her if his life depended on it. With a slight jolt, he realized that this sudden weakness might have been the start of something new, but shrugged it off in lieu of this current predicament.

"Suigetsu was being a complete idiot and like a fool I lost my temper," he told her. "I just—it slipped out."

But now, she was looking at him with horror struck wide eyes and her hands were limp in his. " _Suigetsu_ knows too?"

Too late, Sasuke realized that he had—once again, managed to dig himself into a pit deeper than any hell. By the time his brain caught up with the rest of his body, Sakura had already stormed away.

 **x**

She refused to talk to him for a week. In turn, he refused to speak to Suigetsu _or_ Itachi. He snapped at them with the viciousness of a pit viper whenever they tried to broach him and in turned Sakura froze him with frigid politeness whenever he tried to broach her.

In the end, he broke down and bought a box of heinously sweet cookies. Then he very strategically seated himself right in her line of vision and ate one, two, three of the cookies. Just as he was about to bite into the fourth one, face screwed in an expression of utmost disgust, she caught his wrist. Openmouthed, he watched as she put it back in the box, closed his mouth shut with a finger and walked out the door. Something in him loosened when he realized she'd taken the box with her.

 **x**

The night after, he waited for her to return. An hour became two became three and when finally, his shoulders refused to carry the weight of his head, he collapsed on the bed.

He woke up to a soft fluttering pressure on his neck and a warm weight on his chest. The room was dark and his mind was foggy so it took him a moment to figure out that it was Sakura who was pressing into him, and as her lips pressed into the crook of his neck, tiny pin pricks of awareness finally started to dart through his head.

Her hands pressed his shoulders into the bed and the heat of her body was an alarming comfort. She trailed a line of soft, wet, kisses along his jaw and his heart thundered, his brain short circuited and his hands slid around her waist to her back and into her hair. His sleep addled brain creaked in protest—something was wrong, it insisted. And so Sasuke remembered the entire fiasco with Itachi and Suigetsu and his tragic inability to work with words.

She kissed the side of his mouth and involuntarily, his leg tangled with hers. She gasped, leaning over him, looking at him with wide eyes the green of which he could make out even in the dark.

"Sakura," he croaked, breathing hard and not knowing why. There was a stirring in his groin that he hadn't experienced in a while.

Spooked, she tried to skitter away, but he held firm.

"What are you doing?"

She didn't answer, but he could feel the hammering of her heart and the strain of her limbs. She wanted to flee, so he loosened his fingers in her hair and secured them around her waist. He felt her go limp in his arms. For a moment, she silently, defiantly, looked at him in the dark, and then she simply took his mouth with hers. Soft, seductive, drawing what she needed and giving back. Slow and silky, a mating of lips and tongues. The heat from the bodies wrapped close, weighing heavy on the limbs.

He drifted into desire as a man drifts through mists. The sheets were warm and rustling around them, the air was sweet and brittle and she was there, warm and willing and real.

Her back arched under his hands, her hair tickled the sides of his face and deep within his chest, something bubbled. It took all his strength to remember why she was doing this and the entirety of his will power to pull away. She resisted, pushing back, sliding her hands under his shirt, over his skin, reaching and reaching until not—until he pulled her hands away, put his weight on her and finally breathing hard, with fury in her eyes, chin wobbling dangerously, she stopped.

"Sakura," he said, breathless and unforgiving. "Stop."

And then she snatched her arms away and turned around, pretending to be falling asleep. If he were the man he was six months ago, he would have simply let her be. Instead, he rubbed his eyes and prayed to all deities he knew to fix this.

"Sakura," he said again, this time tentative and hesitant.

She didn't move.

He exhaled his frustration. "I told you, not until you're ready."

She turned around sharply. "And yet you go around telling people that I—"

" _God_ you annoying woman!" he snapped sharply, gritting his teeth to keep his temper checked. "I didn't—It didn't happen that way! I'm _sorry_. I don't know how to fix this."

She looked at him, stone faced and unmoving. Then abruptly, all the anger and resentment seemed to seep out of her. She sighed, closed her eyes and thought of nothing. All the while, Sasuke sat, waiting and apprehensive.

Casually and with little fanfare, she reached out and took his hand, tucked it between both of hers.

Understanding her forgiveness, he felt the clog in his chest loosen. He lay back down and felt the rift of the past week close a little.

He wouldn't fall asleep, not right then. And he could tell that neither would she. He didn't dare say a word. After what seemed like forever, she said in a gravelly, hesitant sort of voice, "So how did you, um…lose your…" she trailed off, and even in the almost but not quite darkness, Sasuke could feel her discomfiture. He took his hands out of hers and held one snugly.

"Um," she started again, "your virginity."

Shit, he thought, having war flashbacks of a time long past, a youth ill spent and a night he could barely remember—just flashes of strobe lights, a kaleidoscope of colors, a hazy fog of drug induced euphoria. And sweat; sticky, wet and slithering, a feeling of wetness and such utter despair, sometimes it still gave him a cold stroke of shiver.

"Does it bother you?" he asked instead, swallowing past the tightness in his throat.

"Yes," she said unflinchingly.

"I'm sorry," he replied, and the earnest entreaty in his voice beseeched her heart.

"It's not okay right now," she said, "but it will be."

 **x**

tbc

 _ **Would you mind leaving a review...?**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Arranged**

 **Summary:** Arranged marriage in the twenty-first century might have been uncommon, but not unheard of. "What," she muttered tiredly, "have I married into?"

 _x_

 _In a world full of temporary things, you are a perpetual feeling._

 _x_

It was only after she'd said it that she realized how it had been niggling at the back of her mind ever since he'd told.

She appreciated his honesty—she really did, but that didn't mean her heart wouldn't rebel against her mind. She was, by no means one of those people whose lives were commanded by the concept of chastity. She'd kissed her fair share of frogs—it was just that her mind was scared to admit that Sasuke might be, not only _a_ prince, but _the_ prince. And if he was The Prince, then he wasn't perfect and the little child in her heart would be crushed.

 _x_

He had the sexiest lips she'd ever seen; just the right amount of pouty and luscious. Gorgeous. And soft, she remembered. So soft. She dreamed about biting into them, sucking on them, kissing them thoroughly. She would almost feel the softness of them, taste the saltiness of them and she would lean forward unknowingly. Then she'd catch herself and blush furiously. She'd busy herself with menial tasks—run an errand, clean her locker, immerse herself in research, and one unfortunate time, even cooked.

Sasuke for his part seemed to have returned to his usual quiet, solemn self. He spoke when spoken to, took care of her when she needed him to and once, even let her talk him into lining his eye—until she actually started doing it—"Are you _insane_?" He'd cried out in listless fury.

His eyes were magnificent; black as onyx and such a startling juxtaposition of cold and warm her heart thudded with the intensity of it. Every time he would pin her with his gaze, she'd lose her train of thought. Case in point—

"Sakura, you put a _goddamn_ fork in the microwave?" he asked incredulously, brandishing the fire extinguisher with exaggerated severity. Sakura feared it would fall from his hands and crash on the floor.

"I—you were _distracting_ me!" she accused.

He gave her a disbelieving look. _What is wrong with you?_ It said.

They looked at the charred, barely recognizable disposition of the microwave. It looked sad and depressing—like a cadaver lying lifeless on the morgue table. On the inside, they watched the grisly remains of that nights dinner with the tines of the fork still sparking menacingly.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, not meeting his gaze.

She heard him let out a sigh of long suffering and caved a little into herself.

 _x_

He cried when Mufasa died. She was ninety nine point nine, nine, nine percent sure that he did. It was dark and the only part of his face she could see was his profile but—there was the smallest, tiniest pinprick of a tear. Her heart gave a little flip and keeled over in her chest.

She wanted to pinch the life out of his cheeks, kiss the thoughts out of his brain and hug the soul out of his body.

She didn't.

What she did do was weave herself around him even more snugly than usual, so that he wouldn't be able to move even if he tried.

He didn't.

 _x_

She started noticing the bleary eyes and the late night's right when their schedules started coinciding. He woke up early, went to sleep late, tried to be everything else in between. She could see the heaviness in his shoulders, the knots in his muscles, the strain on his mind. She started worrying.

It kept niggling at the back of her mind, but when she tried to actually do something it always backfired.

"Sakura," he'd choked past the assault on his taste buds, "Please don't ever do that again."

In defiant retaliation she had taken a bite out of her homemade healthy egg white and kale omelet. Then she'd sat back in her seat and promised herself she'd never, ever go near the stove again.

A week after, he'd collapsed from a temperature of a hundred and four degrees. She had never felt more like a failure in her life.

 _x_

She made the requisite calls for him—and by that she meant notifying Itachi, who handled things from there. Then she watched him lay down and breath hard, sway this way and that until she pushed him back on the bed, stroked his hair aside and felt his forehead. It was burning.

She tucked him in and fretted about what to do next, remembered she was a certified medical professional and cursed herself for losing her mind over nothing. She sighed. Then she reminded herself of the time when she'd insisted upon attending school in a hundred and three degree fever. It wasn't that bad.

She only just collapsed once.

She promptly took out her phone and called in a family emergency. Then she thought longingly of all the surgeries she'd miss, steeled her resolve against all the bad karma she was inviting by thinking such thoughts and came back to fretting over Sasuke again.

She wondered how he used to manage without anyone being there for him. An image of Mikoto popped unbidden in her mind and she understood now, how Mikoto would take care of her kids like a mama bear.

The fever would break only with proper rest, a tiny bit of medical intervention and a whole lot of chicken soup—both for the health and the soul. She was not good at making chicken soup—either for health nor for the soul.

With tentative, hesitant fingers, she called Mikoto.

 _x_

Mikoto arrived in a whirlwind of homemade dishes and imported pashmina blankets.

Sakura immediately felt better.

"Thank you for calling me, Sakura-chan," she smiled at her, then went back to stroking Sasuke's cheek. His breathing was still hard, his skin was still glossy with sweat and his temperature was still running high. All of that was completely normal, and yet Sakura couldn't help but fret.

"I didn't know what to do," she told Mikoto, ashamed.

"It's alright," Mikoto told her kindly. "He's just tired."

All those late nights, all those early mornings, catching up to him, thought Sakura. She wondered if Mikoto thought if she was a failure of a wife. She didn't want her to.

They sat on the bed; Mikoto folded elegantly next to Sasuke and Sakura by his feet, almost at the very edge.

"He needs to take his medicine, but I didn't want to give him any on an empty stomach," she said, looking at the duvet. "I don't—um."

"I know Sakura-chan," said Mikoto gently. "Come help me make some porridge."

 _x_

In the kitchen, Mikoto took out porridge oats, milk cartons and a jar of honey from a shopping bag. All the while Sakura stood on the side, awkwardly picking at the counter edge.

"Would you get me the salt, love?" Mikoto asked, taking out a saucepan and sprinkling a batch of oats in efficiently.

Sakura felt like an assistant nurse handing over the tin blade to the doctor. A small prickle of shame went down her spine as she handed over the salt. She found herself floundering for something to say.

"It's not like I didn't try," she started defensively, "It's just that every time I cook it turns into an epic disaster!" she finished, slightly hysterical, not wanting Mikoto to think less of her. She realized in that moment that Mikoto's impromptu and slightly senile liking of her had given her a confidence that she would never be ready to let go off.

"Oh, Sakura-chan," said Mikoto lovingly, "I would never judge you on something like that." She opened her arms wide and Sakura found herself sinking into her warm embrace. It felt like love and Sakura soaked in the acceptance from it.

When Mikoto let go, she felt the distinct loss of that embrace deep in her chest.

She accepted the carton of milk and yogurt she was handed and set on to thin the mixture while Mikoto poured milk into the saucepan and set it to boil. They worked in a comfortable silence and Sakura felt all her long-bottled misconceptions about the Uchiha matriarch slowly ebb away.

Mikoto poured the porridge into a bowl and put a thick glob of golden honey on top. It looked absolutely delectable.

Mikoto gently shook Sasuke awake. His face sharpened as he finally registered her face and when he tried to force himself up, it was Mikoto who lightly pushed him back and made him lean on the pillows instead. She spoon fed him the porridge forcefully and Sasuke shot her a look of such indignant grievance that Sakura couldn't quite smother her smile. He shot her a betrayed glance, then accepted the spoon hovering in front of his mouth.

Later, when Mikoto was whipping up dinner, he held Sakura back and with a puffy-faced, reproachful gaze, he said, "You called my _mother_?"

She shrugged helplessly, not wanting to explain how she'd lost all her senses.

He held her eyes for one, two, three seconds; then swayed precariously. Blinking back her edginess, Sakura gently pushed him back on the bed. "You have to rest. Let the meds work."

She could feel the annoyance in his sigh. She could also feel the dampness of his shirt. The fever was breaking, she noticed with relief. He must have been feeling slightly loopy, as through the delirious haze of fever, he said, "Thank you."

For what, she never knew.

 _x_

All hands at deck, her pager insisted. It was ten to midnight and she needed to book it to the hospital. She also needed to take care of Sasuke. In the end, she decided to err on the side of caution.

"Would you stay with him?" she asked Mikoto.

"Do you even need to ask, darling?"

In a flurry of pink hair and neon backpack, Sakura was gone.

 _x_

Sasuke came to again at precisely six-thirty in the morning. He was disoriented to find that he wasn't backed up in his usual tiny corner of the bed. In fact, he was very firmly tucked in and could distinctly feel the swollen state of his throat. His eyes, he found were gritty and irritable. His body felt heavy and cumbersome. His nose was stuffed and unable to perform.

He heaved himself up on noodley arms. His head swam. He sighed and hauled himself up, then trudged slowly into the kitchen.

Halfway through he couldn't quite catch his breath, but because he was Sasuke, and therefore intermittently stubborn, he pushed himself all the way into the kitchen. He even managed to pour himself a glass of cool water that he promptly choked on because his throat constricted at the cold.

And then, like an avenging angel, his mother swooped out of nowhere and pounded him on the back to ease the cough. Sasuke hacked through the bewildered haze of the severely sick and when he finally felt like he could breathe again, he croaked out an incredulous, " _Mother_?"

"Oh, Sasuke-kun," Mikoto sighed, dismayed, "Why would you get out of bed?"

Sasuke blinked long and hard to clear away the disorientation, then croaked again, "Mother?"

"Yes, darling," said Mikoto, gently helping him up and towards his room.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, shuffling listlessly and trying to pry away from her.

"Sakura-chan had to go to the hospital, so she asked me to stay," she told him kindly and held on firmly to his arm.

Sasuke scowled past the soreness in his throat.

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"I'll make you some porridge."

"Mother—"

"You just lie down, darling."

"I am not an invalid, Mother!"

"Of course not, darling."

Sasuke found that he didn't have the energy to even sputter out a decent rebuttal. So he gave up and let his mother tuck him in.

By the time Mikoto returned, he'd partially dozed off again. He woke up to a gentle hand stroking his head and let her feed him porridge. Then he swallowed his medicine with warm milk and passed out again.

 _x_

Sakura found herself rushing from one patient to another, not even having time to breathe. The labs were overcrowded, her chief was on a warpath and there was a girl bleeding her guts out on the OR table. In the back of her mind she worried about Sasuke, and in the front of her mind, she worried about the artery being cauterized and still bleeding blood.

Ten hours later, when she finally had time to breathe again, she called home. Home. The modernist monstrosity that Sasuke owned was now home. She wasn't quite startled.

Mikoto picked up after two rings.

"Hey, how is he?" she asked urgently.

"He's fine, sweetheart."

"That's good. Did he take the afternoon dose?"

"Not yet."

"Okay, would you please make sure he does?"

Mikoto's laugh was happy and tinkling. "Of course, dear."

Sakura breathed a small sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"Anytime, dear. When will you be back?"

Sakura looked around the throngs of people morosely. "A bus was hit by a train. It's going to be long."

"I see," said Mikoto, and Sakura could hear the sad compassion in her tone even through the phone. "Take care, Sakura-chan."

"I will."

 _x_

When he woke up next, he felt decidedly clear headed. Even his throat itched less. Mikoto sat at his desk, a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose as she read.

"Mother?"

She looked up and smiled. "Yes, Sasuke-kun?"

"You're still here."

"Of course I am."

Her bright, sunny countenance made him feel a little better. "Sakura?" he asked.

"At the hospital, still."

He closed his eyes, opened them again when she came to sit by his side. The look in her eyes made him remember childhood years when he used to stick to her like glue.

"Do you remember Sasuke-kun? When you were a baby, you never used to sleep unless you had a fist full of my clothes in your hands."

Sasuke did remember. "Aa."

Mikoto sighed. "I miss babying you boys."

He didn't reply, just scooted to the side so she could sit beside him. He closed his eyes in warm bliss when she stroked his hair again.

"How is life with Sakura-chan?"

Sasuke knew she must have been dying to ask him that. "It's…getting there."

"Is she nice?"

"She's…Sakura."

Her laugh was warm and bright. "Are you happy?"

Sasuke thought about it. "Yes."

"I'm happy for you, too." Mikoto leaned across and tucked him in a little better. "When you reach my age, you realize what really matters most in this brief time on earth. Family, honor, love." She put a gentle hand on his head. "Of a man should have all three, he is indeed blessed."

"I know, Mother."

"Now if we could just find a nice, young man for Itachi—"

"Mo _ther_."

"Oh, alright," she said, and was silent for only a second. "But I was right about Sakura-chan and you."

She sounded triumphant and Sasuke didn't have the heart nor the energy to deny her. "We were lucky," he said instead.

"So…grandbabies?"

" _Mother_!"

"What?" she said innocently.

Sasuke let out a resigned sigh. Mikoto patted his hand. None of them missed how it was fisted in her shirt.

 _x_

By the time Sakura returned, Mikoto was spoon feeding chicken-noodle soup to Sasuke.

"What," she muttered tiredly, "have I married into?"

"Sakura-chan!" Mikoto trilled. She looked ecstatic. Sasuke looked about ready to jump off the deep end, but Sakura suspected that was just a ploy to appear more adult than he actually felt.

"Hi," she said, and moved forward to feel his forehead. It was slightly warm; better then the furnace it was ten hours before.

"You look tired," said Mikoto, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I am," she said, feeling the ache in her bones and the grit in her eyes.

"Oh, honey," said Mikoto, taking her bag and pulling her into a tender hug. "Let's put you to bed."

Sasuke suspected his mother was having the time of her life.

 _x_

Mikoto returned home on the utmost insistence of her husband. Sasuke suspected Itachi might have a hand in her impromptu departure. He felt grateful yet strangely bereft.

Sakura lay next to him—still tired, yet awake.

"How are you?" she asked.

"Better," he replied.

Sakura squinted at him. "I guess you are," she said, for he looked slightly better than death warmed over. Then, "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

She looked ashamed of herself and Sasuke didn't know why. "It was fine."

"It wasn't," she insisted, "If you'd have left me like that I would have punched you in the face."

Amused, Sasuke said, "I'll keep that in mind." Pensive, he added, "Although I would have preferred if you wouldn't have called Mother."

She smirked, the edges of which were softened by exhaustion. "As if. You like being emasculated by mommy."

Sasuke let out a series of decidedly undignified sneezes in response and she patted him on the head, almost patronizingly. "It's very cute."

"Shut up."

"You, shut up."

Sasuke shot her a semi-irritated glance. Any other day, she would've leaned forward and cocooned herself in his embrace. Today, she stayed rooted for risk of infection. "How was your day?" she asked instead.

His lips twitched at the side, before settling back into a straight line. He shrugged.

"What did you do all day?"

He shrugged.

"Was it like being little again?"

His expression was self-aggrandizing, so Sakura knew she'd hit the nail on the head. She burrowed deeper into the pillow and rested her cheek on the side. "What did you used to do when you were a kid?"

He didn't answer. Just stared up at the ceiling.

"What did you used to play with? What was your favorite subject to study? What did you like to eat the most?"

Slowly, Sasuke turned his head to the side.

Under the duvet, she reached out and tucked her hand in his. "I didn't have many friends, so I played with my dad. I used to love chemistry because I liked mixing stuff in beakers; made me feel like a scientist," she squeezed his hand gently and whispered grandly, "I always did and forever will, love cheesecake."

Slowly, Sasuke squeezed her hand back, then looked up at the ceiling again. Just when she thought he had fallen asleep, he said, "Played with my brother, studied hard and tried to please my father."

He fell into silence again and she scooted a little closer to him. "My only friend was a kid named Shikamaru and he was so lazy he refused to play anything but board games."

"Itachi was my best friend."

"Was?"

"Is."

"He's evil."

"He's not."

"Is, too."

"I refuse to indulge your childish behavior."

"And I refuse to indulge your crappy entendres."

He coughed. She didn't cringe away. "You're annoying."

"Your face is annoying." There was no inflection in her words.

They both fell into silence.

"I would very much like to kiss you," she said softly.

Sakura knew that his shuddery inhale could only have been of surprise. In the soft light of the lamp her cheeks grew warm. "I mean, not now, because you're sick and I don't want to catch that bug. But maybe when you get better?"

"Of course," he said in stiff appropriation, as if committing the remaining days of his life to a suicide squad.

"Good," she said and closed her eyes, finally succumbing to sleep.

 _x_

tbc

 **Don't forget to leave a review...?**


	9. Chapter 9

**Arranged**

 **Summary:** Arranged marriage in the twenty-first century might have been uncommon, but not unheard of. "It killed you to say that, didn't it?"

 **Notes:**  
i) Thank you, Nayab Almas Azhar, for stringing together such beautiful words. Happy arranged to you – and may Bilal be the Sasuke to your Sakura. ^^

ii) To Nayab—buried in the depths of the internet, if you DO ever manage to find this, I WILL DIE. ;)

x

 _Together no matter what happens, I'll be ready, for anything, for everything. To take on life, to take on love, to take on possibilities and responsibilities. Today our lives together begin and I for one…can't wait!_  
 _~ Nayab Almas Azhar_

 _x_

When it happened, it was new and awkward and yet, still comfortable. It was explosive and wild and fast and it made both their hearts beat faster. It was more than either of them had bargained for. She was scurrying around the room looking for her keys when he appeared behind her. He was tall, immoveable and shuffling imperceptibly.

Sakura knew, as he slowly bent his head to her, that he was going to kiss her. But instead of drawing away, she shyly lifted her face and met him halfway. His lips came down to caress hers in a long, tender, undemanding kiss.

Even when the kiss deepened and her lips were being sensually shaped and moulded to his, Sakura knew he would let her pull away if she tried. Instead, her hands crept up his chest, twining around his neck, and everything changed.

His hand tangled in her hair and slowly, almost tenderly, cupping her face between his hands, he gazed into her eyes.

Sakura's heart skipped a beat, then began to hammer as he slowly, deliberately buried his lips in hers once again. He kissed her long and lingeringly slow, compelling kisses that made her head swim. His tongue flicked her lips, teasing at first and then urging and insisting. The moment she parted them, he plunged inside to intimately explore her mouth while his hands moved down her back, pressing her closer and tighter to himself.

Jolt after jolt of wild sensation rocketed through her, from her neck to her knees, leaving her trembling and clinging to him. Never had she been kissed like that. The world tilted as he leaned her back against the vanity shelf. He kissed her again; this time fierce and devouring, parting her lips, teasing and exploring her with his tongue as it plunged gently, then retreated, until Sakura, in a fervor of longing, touched her own to his.

He groaned and crushed her tighter to the length of his body, drawing her tongue into his mouth and caressing it with his own. When his mouth lefts hers, it was to trace its way across her cheek before covering her lips again. His hand left a glowing warmth as it slid down her throat, across her breasts and then his hand was under her shirt.

She had no time to feel any spurts of disapproval. Before she could even comprehend the fast track to second base, his fingers were on her naked flesh and it was only as he unhooked her bra, baring her breast to his hand that reality penetrated past her passion drugged senses.

She moaned into his mouth and extricated a trembling, shaky hand from his hair. Reluctantly, she tried to stop him, but instead of pulling away, he deepened the wildly consuming kiss while his hands roamed inside her shirt, teased and pushed until she was clinging on to the brink of sanity.

Then without warning, he stopped.

Kissed and caressed into dazed insensibility, Sakura watched his smoldering, unsteady gaze shift from her face to his hand, felt the noose of his hazy integrity tightening like a coil as he slowly *extricated his hand from under her shirt.

"Well," she breathed, "that was fun."

Step by step, he was pulling away, until only the tips of her fingers touched him. She could see the honest struggle behind his face as he tried to pull himself together. "I—I'm—," he stuttered, averted his eyes and cleared his throat, "…sorry."

Amused and still slightly out of breath, she stepped forward, and for each one she took towards him, he took one away from her. "For what?"

He exhaled, looked away, blushed furiously.

She couldn't quite help but smile. "For clearing first and second base in one go?"

Still, he looked away. She stepped closer, felt the coolness of the hooks of her bra, the looseness of the straps, the hardness of her nipples and the phantom heat of his hands. "Let's do that again. Preferably when I don't have to leave right after."

He studied the floor, in shame or embarrassment, Sakura couldn't tell. So she fixed her bra and her shirt, ran a few quick fingers through her hair and went down to her car. It was only when she was inside, that she let out a long, shuddery breath and let her legs wobble.

 _x_

He steered clear for a week after. Apparently, Uchiha Sasuke's save face strategy was to avoid and conquer. He acted stoic, as deadpan as he could manage, and yet every single time she attempted the barest of promiscuity he'd get all flustered—his face lit up red like a beacon.

She would laugh.

He would run with his metaphorical tail between his legs.

It was amusing, Sakura would think. At least, the first few times.

 _x_

A week and a half in, Suigetsu showed up in the middle of the night.

Sasuke took one look at him, sighed and opened the door wider. Bleary eyed and restless he settled on the couch and flipped the channels on the television while Suigetsu recounted his woes.

"She kicked me _out_ , man!" he exclaimed with all the aftershock of a man being handled by the balls. "Straight up kicked me out of my _own_ fucking home!"

A pause.

"In front of my _daughter_!"

He didn't seem put out by Sasuke's apparent lack of attention or opinion. "Who does that bitch think she _is_? Why doesn't she just let me _love_ her?" He stood up and started pacing. " _Why_ is it so hard for her to love _me_?"

"Karin?"

The two of them simultaneously turned around in time to see Sakura drop her bag and close the door. Sasuke, who'd been draped against the couch, suddenly stiffened up and Suigetsu seemed to have found the perfect audience for his vicissitude.

"Help out a guy, won't you?" he grinned charmingly and Sakura steered him into the kitchen. By the time Sasuke followed, she was puttering around, fixing herself some instant ramen.

"So I said it was _me_ who was getting the blue balls here, right?! I mean it's been half our lives already!" he vociferated animatedly, desperate for some understanding.

"Mhm," said Sakura slurping some noodles. Despite his better judgment, he pulled out a stool and sat next to her.

"And she starts bitching around, which is _fine_ , because that's her and I like her so I say, fuck it just marry me already, right?!"

"Ooh, what did she say?"

"She went completely still and—and for a moment I thought she was gonna say yes but then she went completely juggernauts and kicked me out!" Suigetsu cried, pumping his hands in desperation.

Sakura slurped a long batch of noodles, then cast her cup aside.

Sasuke leaned his head on a fist and observed.

"You're a smart kid," she said.

"Thank you." Suigetsu looked slightly taken a back.

"But there's a whole lot of dumb dribbling out of you, right now."

That shut him up.

"First off," she started, "Stop trying to _make_ her marry you. If she loves you, and when she's ready, she'll do it on her own."

"I know—"

"Stop," she raised a hand and like magic, Suigetsu's mouth popped shut. Sasuke was impressed.

"Second, you _cussed_ out a proposal for her?"

"It's our thing."

"I don't care if it's your thing and frankly, neither does she. If you really want to marry her, then treat her with respect. I don't know how she puts up with you and your filthy mouth in the first place. If your friend here," she waved a hand at Sasuke, who backed away slightly, "ever talked to me like that, I'd break his face off."

"But—it's our _thing_ ," he insisted feebly.

"Then _change_ your thing."

Suigetsu's shoulders slumped and he looked to Sasuke for support. If he were anyone else, Sasuke would've shrugged flippantly. But because he was Sasuke, he gave a blunt, approving nod. Suigetsu let out a breath. He wasn't much of a planner and never had been. Things just sort of happened for him and he went along with the flow, like a cork bobbing atop the waves. Usually that wasn't such a bad thing. For the most part, he was happy; for the most part, he felt pretty good about himself, even if a big, chunk of his life hadn't worked out so far.

But this time, the stakes were a little higher. The chips were down, and it was time to lay the cards on the table. Put up or shut up. The going was rough, and it was time to get going. And even though there was no time like present, Suigetsu was far from the early bird who caught the worm. He wasn't at all sure what to do. He didn't even know where to start. He needed a plan.

"How do I fix this?" he asked desperately.

Sasuke, who'd felt the cogs creaking in Suigetsu's brain watched helplessly as Sakura led him on a possibly one way trip to hell.

"Well first off, apologize," she said firmly.

Suigetsu made a face, then nodded.

"And lay off. Just be there when she needs you."

Apparently finished, she started collecting her trash. Suigetsu sat, awaiting further instructions.

"That's it?" he asked incredulously as she got up and dumped her trash.

"Yes."

"But—"

"Yes, I know. Too simple for your moronic brain," she joked, then turned around and walked away.

"…Thanks," he said slowly, and Sasuke could feel the cogs in Sui's brain turning again.

"Oh and," she turned around once again, "before you head off with the guns blazing, let me give you some more advice."

"Suuure."

"Scrap the gift."

"But I thought you said—"

"I said, change your thing, not _yourself_."

"But—"

"Trust me on this. It'll make you look desperate."

"I _am_ desperate."

"You may be," she agreed. "But you can't let her know that. She'll think you're pathetic."

 _x_

Suigetsu left an hour later with a purposeful stride and a determined gleam in his eye. But before that, he'd caught on to Sasuke's predicament.

They'd been sitting in the kitchen when Sakura had shown up again and reached for a glass from the cupboard. As she stood on her tiptoes, her blouse had lifted enough to show her belly, and naturally Sasuke had turned away, forcing himself to recite his third grade picture essay.

Suigetsu's snicker had been nothing more than the buzz of gnat in his ear. Quietly, his best friend had murmured, "She's something else, huh?"

"Aa," Sasuke had answered, not thinking.

"Makes you want to just go up and plant one on her, doesn't she?"

Sasuke had opened his mouth to agree when alarms started going in his head. Wide-eyed, he'd finally looked at Suigetsu. A blush had seared the back of his neck as he'd realized what just happened…and what he had said.

Suigetsu had laughed for five minutes.

It wasn't that he wasn't a hot blooded male; in fact it was _because_ he was a hot blooded male that he was being careful. It had taken him by surprise, the intensity with which he'd kissed her.

 _x_

"Everything alright?" she asked later. He sat at the edge of the bed, a little dazed and a whole lot apprehensive.

"Yes."

She slanted him a narrow eyed look. "You sure?"

"Yes," he lied.

She scoffed lightly. "Okay, well, then kiss me."

He sucked a light breath through his teeth. He wanted to do it so much that he didn't want to do it at all. That moment of hesitation cost him.

"Sasuke," she started, a warning in her voice. He tensed, waiting for the temper to crash, but all she did was reach out and grab his hand. A little stunned, he let her hold it. She let out a soft exhale of a laugh. "Sasuke," she said again, "the day I married you, my entire life changed. All my life, I'd been just me; a smart math kid. But that day, I became a woman, I became a wife. That day, I became accountable to someone other than myself. That day, I became accountable to _you_ ; to our future, to all the possibilities that marriage has to offer."

Sasuke, who even in normal circumstances had trouble stringing together words that weren't scathing and sharp and awkward for all the wrong reasons, was kind of stunned speechless. "Aa," he managed, staggered by the sincerity of her words.

"I know the road has been slightly rough, but we're getting there, right?"

"Right," he said, some of the tension seeping from his shoulders.

"Good," she twined her fingers with his, "Now tell me what this is about."

He squeezed her hand. "I…think I moved too fast…"

She laughed. "Really?"

He frowned. "Yes."

"You didn't."

"I did," he insisted.

"Why do you assume I'm a complete and total virgin?" she grinned.

Confused, he blinked at her.

"Because, I'm not. I've just never had anyone—you know, go _there_. But I've done some stuff."

He took a deep breath, then squeezed his eyes shut. "I did not need to know that."

"Yes," she said gently, "you did."

He looked away, and she held on tighter to his hand. "Listen, Sasuke. I know we're taking it slow, but I don't want to go at snail's pace anymore. I want you to kiss me like you did this morning, everyday."

He looked in her eyes a moment, then nodded solemnly.

"By the way," she said playfully, "you were a saint."

"Your definition of saint is very different from mine."

"Shut up," she said, "and let me kiss you."

Leaning up on her knees, she slid her hands up along his chest and twined them around his neck, then covered his lips with hers. She felt the muscles in his body stiffen as she innocently brushed her lips back and forth over his, slowly exploring the warm curves of his mouth, learning the taste of him, while his parted lips began to move against hers in a wild kiss.

Lost in the sudden, flaring passion of their kiss and unaware of the hardening pressure against her stomach, Sakura let her fingers slide into the soft hair at his nape while her body automatically fitted itself into his—and suddenly everything changed. Sasuke's arm closed around her with sudden force, his mouth opening on hers with fierce hunger. He parted her lips, teasing her with his tongue until he coaxed her to touch her own to his lips, and when she did, he pulled her even closer.

When he finally lifted his head, he stared down at her with an odd expression of bemused self-mockery.

"What?" she breathed.

He kissed her again.

 _x_

Later, she lay over him, snug under his arms with her cheek on his chest. It was comforting to hear his heart beat. He'd been kind of a rage, she thought, and yet tender at the same time.

No one could have shown that kind of caring if there wasn't inside. Only Sasuke, she thought, maybe a little fondly.

"You're cold," she murmured.

"Am not." She snuggled against him and would have frozen to the bone before she let him move. But she shifted her head so she could grin at him.

"Sakura." His fingers trailed lightly down the back of her neck. "You look smug."

"I feel smug. Do you mind?"

"No."

She bent down to kiss his chin; a sweet and casual gesture that moved him. "Of course you don't."

 _x_

It took Sasuke weeks to get used to such blatant sort of affection. His father was a frightful hermit—a paragon of rigidity; therefore he'd never seen his parents show even the slightest bit of marital sentiment.

He'd always thought he'd be immune to the likes of such frou frou accoutrements.

It had been nice—to be proven so wrong.

Kissing Sakura was like standing on the edge of a cliff and diving – not knowing if the rope connecting him from above would hold or not. He liked when her body moved in tandem to his own. He liked feeling her warm breath on his face. He liked the aftertaste of strawberry lip balm on his lips. He liked the breathless sounds she moaned when his hands roamed her body.

And more often than not, it was hard for him to believe that this was real; that _they_ were real.

"I can't," he said one day.

Immersed in the pages of a humongous text, she didn't pay him much mind, then blinked to break focus and asked, "Can't what?"

He couldn't quite pull the words out of his mouth, especially when she looked at him right in the eyes. So he turned his nose up in the most Sasuke of ways, and said, "Imagine anyone else in your place."

"Oh," she said, taken aback, and after a moment of stunned silence, her lips twitched into a teasing grin. "It killed you to say that, didn't it?"

Bristling, he turned to his side and huffed out an irritated breath.

"Sasuke," she said with a surprised little laugh, "I think you already know my take on that."

 _x_

Karin showed up two days later with Hana gurgling happily in her arms. Her face was grim, her eyes were swollen and her hair was in a state of completely unfashionable disarray. She marched into their apartment, shoved Hana into Sakura's arms and fell down face first on the living room sofa, shoulders quaking in silent sobs.

Sasuke shuffled uncomfortably on his feet, while Sakura tried to adjust her grip on baby Hana, looking like she'd been handed a giant meat cleaver she didn't know how to use.

A few moments of agonizing silence later, Karin finally emerged from Sasuke's meticulously white couch pillows and wiped her nose on her shirt sleeve. "It's horrible," she whispered.

He exchanged a dark look with Sakura. "What?"

"Suigetsu," Karin whispered.

Sakura's face sharpened instantly and Hana was shoved unceremoniously into his arms, while Sakura sat down next to Karin, a gentle hand rubbing her back. "What did he do, now?"

Karin looked absolutely miserable as she said, "He's being _nice_."

There was another excruciatingly long silence, where Sasuke with raised brows gave Sakura an amused almost smile while Hana tried to plop a wet baby kiss on his cheek he expertly avoided.

"Um, isn't that a good thing?"

" _No_ ," cried Karin. "It's _awful_. It means he's still mad. And that maybe," she implored Sasuke with sad, pleading eyes, "that he's finally done with me."

"Oh, God," muttered Sakura, only slightly aghast. He could almost hear her brain rattling around in her head. What is wrong with these people, she silently communicated with a look.

He shrugged, adjusting Hana in his arms.

He saw her shoulders lift in an exasperated exhale. "Karin," she started gently, "Maybe he's being like that because he's finally realized that calling somebody a bitch, is not an endearment."

"But its out thing!"

Sasuke hid his smile in Hana's soft tuft of hair. Sakura looked slightly flabbergasted.

"Okay," she said, sounding shell shocked and dazed.

What followed was a long hour of scandalized hissing and gentle probing, after which Karin left, almost forgetting Hana on the couch. Sakura shut the door and slumped against it. Gently, Sasuke, took her hand and led her to their room.

"I did call you that once," he noted casually, as she made herself comfortable in the crook of his arm.

"What?"

"The b word."

It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about. "Mmmph," she burrowed into his side and let out a tired sigh. "I can't believe I still married you."

"Aa."

A pause.

"Remember when you sent me the fruit basket?"

He did. Not one of his finest moments.

"I can't believe you still married me."

She laughed into his shirt. "Oh, god."

They lay there, and Sasuke found that the sound of her soft breathing was quite comforting in the silence.

"You know," she started, "Someday, we're going to have kids, and one of them is going to ask how we met."

He thought about it for a second, then decided, "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Hmm," she agreed. "I'm terrified of babies."

He scoffed. "I could tell."

She tangled her leg in his. "I'm terrified of pregnancy. The idea of carrying a tiny little life around with me."

"You won't be alone," he reassured.

She scoffed. "Last time I checked you didn't have a womb to share that responsibility."

He let out an exasperated breath. "You're an annoying woman."

"I know," she agreed without remorse.

"I'll be there," he said. "Always."

 _x_

 _tbc_

 _Happy Holidays! And don't forget to leave a review?_


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary:** Arranged marriage in the twenty-first century might be uncommon, but is not unheard of. "Do you mind?"

 **Notes:**

i) I wrote flowery smut. Someone please shoot me now.

ii) The very last legs of this journey. Only one or two chapters left.

 _x_

 _Come Cinderella, let's take the next pumpkin outta here!_

 _x_

Sakura was coming to realize that Sasuke's choice in music was extremely bad, but he was undeniably, _irritatingly_ cute when he subtly bopped his head along.

"He likes country pop," she gushed to Ino, "Which is like, what teenage girls like to listen to but oh my god he bops his head along when he thinks no one is watching!"

Ino positively cackled with glee. "Oh, that _munchkin_!"

"You can't even imagine," agreed Sakura.

They laughed, and then suddenly, Ino stopped, losing just point five lumens of that megawatt smile. "I'm glad you're finally happy, Forehead."

"Oh, Ino," said Sakura, around a smile, "Me, too."

 _x_

Sasuke, Sakura was coming to realize, was severely lacking in the romance department. Once, she caught him rummaging around for clothes with a towel around his waist, and unabashedly ogled, slightly slack jawed.

It had taken him quite a few moments to notice her heated gaze, and when he had; he'd blushed furiously, averted his eyes, looked anywhere but at her and asked, "Do you mind?"

She'd smirked insolently and with the universal carry on gesture of spread hands, said, "Not at all."

He'd been very careful not to be caught in such a blatant state of undress, since.

 _x_

"Sasuke?" she asked one day, "I want you to be romantic."

He sputtered in astounded silence.

"Not always," she quickly backtracked, feeling the slight burn of a blush on her cheeks, "Just—when I ask, okay?"

For a moment she thought, he'd turn his nose up arrogantly, but he surprised her by saying, "I don't know how."

So she took it upon herself to teach him.

"Put your arms around me," she instructed, turning around so that her back was to him.

He did, and she lead his head down so that his mouth was in the crook of her neck. "Now kiss me here."

He did. It was soft and lingering and not at all innocent and she had to clench her thighs to stop her legs from buckling. She inhaled a shuddery breath. "I can't believe I have to teach you how to be romantic," she whispered, eyes closed, leaning back into his chest.

He pressed her closer to him, dragged his lips to the other side of her neck and kissed her there just as slowly, deliberately.

Then he let go and turned her around, laid a hand on the slim column of her throat, feeling the rapid pulse beating there and with a thumb, lifted her chin until her eyes raised fully to his. "Not everything," he said hoarsely, as his hand slid downwards over her breast and around her waist, then slowly up her back, gently pressing her closer to him.

She looked at him, saw the flicker in his eye and barely had time to blink before his mouth was on hers.

She didn't even pretend to resist or protest, not when it was exactly what she needed. The warmth, the steady hand, the skilled mouth. Instead, she slid her arms around his neck, pressed into him and let all the sensations wash over her.

He felt the need he'd kept carefully reined, strain at its tether. The sweetness of her, the arousing pliancy, the little licks of heat that hinted passion simmering beneath innocence.

The combination came close to snapping that tether.

So, it was he who drew back and she who protested. Struggling to temper instinct with sense, he shifted her again and settled her head on the curve of his shoulder.

She felt his heart beat fast under her hand, heard her own pound in her head. She was beginning to like this feeling of being stirred up, to feel that simmering coil in the pit of her stomach.

"That was pretty romantic," she whispered in his chest.

"Aa."

 _x_

She was learning—all the nicks and bumps and the tiny little things that made Sasuke—Sasuke. She was learning and she was embracing.

Sasuke worshipped Itachi, his favorite pair of boxers was green and ratty and worn out. He wouldn't bother to make the bed but his shirts were always immaculately pressed and buttoned. When he slept, he curled into himself and that his eyes were color of angry thunderstorms about to burst the skies open. He had to subtly leave the room if animals started killing each other on the discovery channel.

She knew a hundred little things about Uchiha Sasuke, but when he kissed her, she could barely remember her own name.

 _x_

Sakura, Sasuke had long since realized, had no sense of personal space.

At night, she wrapped herself around him, about him, and in the day, she wrapped herself around and about his thoughts. He found it absurd and annoying.

It was especially distracting when her face was two inches away from his and his mind still had trouble knowing if she'd be mad if he'd turned his head and accidentally kissed her.

She never did.

 _x_

They lay down one night, in the rare moments when their schedules matched. He leaned against a pillow, going through one of his bland, undecipherable files while she lay on her side, looking at him; the gentle, protruding curve of his bottom lip, the high, noble, arch of his cheekbones, the slight fluttering of his lashes.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" she asked, amazed at his naiveté.

She saw the slightest flicker of confusion pass over his features, before he finally registered her words. He turned and gave her one of those rare, charming smiles that could lure the unwary to their doom.

"No," he told her. "Not until I met you."

Not a few months ago, he would have shied away and locked himself in the bathroom. So she was grateful when he turned back to his report, the smile still there, just barely. There was a dimple in his left cheek, not deep, just a slight dip in the curve of his cheek. So very rarely did he smile that she'd never had a chance to properly admire it.

She leaned up on her forearms and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss into his dimple.

Startled, he turned his head. "What are you doing?"

"I like it when you smile," she told him knocking the file out of his hand and straddling him. "I always wanted to kiss you here when you do." She pressed her lips into his; melded, moved, put all that she was in it. She kissed him again. And again. Until he pulled her back by the hair; eyes searing, glittering like coals.

Then he closed his mouth over hers. He kissed her slow and deep. Her heart circled giddily in her chest, then seemed to plop over and thud to bursting.

When they broke apart, he was the one straddling her waist.

 _x_

Sasuke was Sasuke, and Sakura was learning that being Sasuke meant that some part of him would always be the tiniest bit shut out. She found that she wasn't quite as patient as she should have been.

"How did you end up in a gang?"

He stiffened imperceptibly and she noticed. When he didn't reply, she nudged him with her foot. "I wouldn't judge."

"Drop it," he told her tersely.

And she did.

Except she didn't.

For the next two days she almost but not quite bit his head off on every little thing.

"Could you pass me the salt?" he asked politely.

"Go get it yourself," she bristled.

"It's right next to you," he sighed tiredly.

She sputtered indignantly. "W-well—that high horse you're riding on? That's just a camel with its hump up your ass!"

 _x_

"Be patient."

"Patient?" Sakura's eyes widened. Patience wasn't the advice she'd been expecting from Ino. "Yes. Just let your anger mellow inside you, aging like a fine wine. Then when Sasuke does something that really pisses you off, let him have it with both barrels."

Sakura blinked. "Um, I got lost. Are these wine barrels?"

"Pay attention, Forehead. These are barrels of _anger_!" Ino sighed, thumping the table. "The problem with men is, you can't tell them every time something annoys you. If you complain every single time Sasuke isn't holding your hand, you look feeble and whiney and desperate. So you have to hit him with all his flaws at once. Which means…" she paused for dramatic effect, "Waiting until he does something that he knows is bad and having a tally of all your complaints ready in your mind. Be patient, but be prepared."

Sakura shook her head, absolutely stunned by Ino's crazy. "You dimblub," she said a little dazedly, "There's a huge difference between holding hands and having a serious conversation."

"I'm just saying, right now, it's one bullet in your gun. Wait for a few more."

 _x_

Sakura immediately apologized the first chance she ran into Sasuke. "Look," she said, "I know there are boundaries we don't cross," she looked at him carefully. "But I hope that is not always the case."

He accepted her apology with a kiss and she was grateful for Ino's nonsensical gibberish. Marriage was work, not an unlimited supply of flaw bullets in your barrel.

Patience was a virtue, but not the way Ino had intended it to be.

 _x_

It was eight months and ten days into their marriage when Sakura decided to take the final step. She dressed herself in her wedding _uchikake_ , and under that, she wore white, lacy undergarments.

She knew now, what she could do to Sasuke with a word, a look, a touch; and her heart thudded with the anticipation of it.

She knew as his eyes landed on her that she'd got him.

Sasuke, for his part, was caught completely unaware. Standing in the doorway, a hand on the knob he felt his breath hitch. She was standing in front of the bed, kimono wrapped loosely around her, a sliver of leg showing through the slit and the side of the tassels hanging loosely on one end, baring a shoulder. He knew, in that moment, what she had planned. His heart pounded as she came toward him with a smile designed to melt honey from any comb. He came to his senses in an awkward scramble, ignoring the briefcase that spilled onto the floor.

"Saku _ra_ ," he said, a warning in his voice.

"Sasuke," she noted, casually disregarding his caution with a small tilt of her head.

"Stop," he said, and she did. "What is the meaning of this?"

He saw something flicker in her face before she lowered her eyes from his questioning gaze and stared at the floor in self conscious confusion. When she lifted her eyes to his again; they were guarded, her smile looked bracing, almost like a grimace, like she was preparing herself for bad news.

"Don't you want to touch me?" she asked, her inflection daring, teasing, but also something else. Something hesitant and uncertain.

Sasuke exhaled. He knew he sounded resigned and a little pitiful. "Yes…"

Her gaze thawed as it dropped to his lips. "Then you should…because I want you to."

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, to maybe take control of this rapidly uncontrollable situation, but she was already gliding away, with one smoldering look back over her shoulder. He could have sworn he heard his brain cells die. He took two steps, stopped, and tried to be sensible.

 _The hell with it_ , he thought. He hadn't been sensible since he'd married this complete and utter stranger and made her a part of his life.

He reached out and caught her wrist and she turned around and whirled in his arms. Before he could fathom what was happening, she was pressing her lips to his throat, and he tilted her chin up, her face aside and kissed a trail along her jaw.

She grinned and unbuttoned his shirt and he tilted her head again and kissed her softly, twice and then her head dipped, and her mouth closed over his heart. A shock shuddered through him.

She shrugged his shirt from his shoulders, and he made quick work of the sash keeping her kimono from sliding off, until she stood on her bare feet with the lace that barely covered anything. Breathing hard, his hand reached around her waist, pressed into the small of her back and pushed her to him.

She shivered at the delicious sting of his jaw as he trailed kisses down the dip of her neck, arching her back to kiss down, down, his tongue flicking into the dip of her navel.

Sakura's world was painted in feeling. Soft, muted, dreamy colors first—ochre and umber and rose with his tongue. Her breath caught, and she moaned.

He thrilled at her rising, aching, swelling as he drew back and kissed her on the mouth again, drawing out every kiss. Her muscles tightened and trembled and as he unhooked her bra and pushed her on the bed. She grasped the sheets and looked up at him.

She was wild and soft and beautiful and his breath caught as she threaded her hands into his hair and pulled. She drew him up against her, into her, and before he knew it, his hands were slipping under her panties, pulling them away, teasing and testing and not hesitating in the least.

She drew his pants down, moved and arched until it was all he could do not to plunge inside her. "Now, Sasuke," she whispered, her voice taut with strain and before he could think, before he could question and second guess and make himself stop, he positioned himself into her core and slipped inside.

She gasped, and in her world of colors was a pinch of scarlet.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle in a way she'd never heard.

"Yes," she breathed, as the color softened and faded. She pulled him closer.

He slid his hands up her back and her ankles locked around her waist and she took him in with her eyes. She kissed him and it was sugar on his tongue and champagne in his blood; he wanted to drown in her taste and scent and sound. He nipped, pulled, teased and tasted. He moved and she stretched with him, about him, encompassing him in a vision so tunnel, the only thing that mattered was him and her. Her and him.

He stroked slowly and intricately as they blended and feathered and blushed into something radiant.

The colors glazed into something bold and bright.

The echo of her pleasure hit his blood and took it with him. Sakura was unstrung, unbound, unleashed and in his arms.

After, she lay against him, twined around him like moss on limb. Around them, the world was still, muted, almost silent.

He felt content.

 _x_

Sasuke woke up with the first rays of light slanting through the ruffled bedroom curtains. He was laying on his back on the bed while Sakura lay sleeping, draped across his chest, her hair fanned across his shoulder.

With each of her soft breaths, he could feel the fullness of her breasts, remember the way they felt in his hands…

He felt the heat crawling up his neck, the steady rise and fall of her breaths, her nipples pressing into his chest, the softness of her thighs between his leg, the silky feel of her skin against his own. He also, very distinctly, felt the slow, deliberate hardening of his nether regions as he was assaulted with sensation after sensation.

In addition, he had the sudden urge to bury his face in her thighs, suck and nip and tug until she hurtled over the edge again. And again. And again.

Caught with the sudden need to move, to get the _hell_ away before he could do something stupid, he tried extricating himself away. At his sudden movement, her lashes fluttered. Her eyes opened. They were green as sea foam and leaves and met his with sudden and impossible awareness. A smile curved her lips, parted them as she lifted a hand to his cheek.

"Hey," she said, and with a sigh closed her eyes. Her hand slid away from his cheek to fall onto the mattress. "That wasn't so bad."

It really wasn't, and he was only going to indulge occasionally. Now if he could just—

"Is that—"

"No!" he insisted, almost vehemently.

As always, she ignored him and under the sheets, reached out—

"Sakura, stop!"

A slow, lazy smile tugged at the corner of her lip. "Well, look who it is."

He slowly inched out of her reach, "Go back to sleep."

Something flickered on her face, so fast he barely had time to register anything before she was jumping into his arms, legs around his waist and lips inches away from his own.

"Stop holding back," she told him.

"Aren't you sore?" he asked, cautiously optimistic.

"You have no idea," she told him, leaning closer.

"Then maybe—"

" _Maybe_ ," she cut him off, "You should make it go away."

And she kissed him.

 _x_

"How many—um, times have you done this before?" she asked that evening, parting from a particularly steamy kiss.

"Hm," said Sasuke, blinking away the hazy after effects of desire.

She laughed. "How many times—have you not been a virgin?"

He blinked, then looked away, but his arms stayed locked around her waist. "Once," he mumbled awkwardly.

"To whom?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know," she repeated, deadpan.

He shifted uncomfortably, unwrapping his arms from around her waist. "I was drunk. And in a very bad place. I didn't know when or how."

At her alarmed look, he said, "I got tested. I'm clean."

"Right," she said dubiously.

"Look," he said, "I understand what it's like. To not remember. To be scared. That's why I didn't push."

She cocked her head to the side, then leaned back into his embrace. "You're kind of adorable."

"Aa," he admitted without remorse.

 _x_

Sakura liked having sex, and Sasuke—he was a little scared.

He knew that having a lot of sex messed up relationships. It made you feel things that you weren't ready to feel. And when Sasuke found an aspect of life he couldn't quite agree with, it made him angry. He had known for a while now, that slowly but surely, she was going to worm her way into his heart and she was going to make herself comfortable there for the rest of their lives.

He was preparing for it. Nudging away doubts and uncertainty. Given the fast track their relationship was quickly taking, it scared him, to fully let her in.

Because once she was in, he was afraid he would never be able to let her go.

So, one fine night, when she returned home late, he cornered her at the door, reached out, caught the tops of her arms, and hauled her towards him.

Sakura blinked at him. "Something wrong?"

He held her immobile, their bodies nearly touching. "No," he lied.

There was something in his expression; a slight franticness of his eyes, she noticed. "Liar," she berated gently.

Those fierce black eyes bored into her. His arm slid down, wrapped around her waist, and he hauled her the last few inches between the, pressing his body full-length against hers. "You annoying woman," he said heatedly, and kissed her.

His mouth was hard and insistent, as if he were staking claim in some way. Then the ruthless kiss softened, turned into something almost tender and in less than a heartbeat Sakura was engulfed in a white-hot blaze. She moaned as she melted against him and her arms slid around his neck. He took her deeply with his tongue and the hot, slick feel of it sent tremors crawling over her skin.

One hand slid into her hair, while the other pressed her into him from behind. He kissed her one way and then the other, kissed her as if he couldn't stop himself.

"God, you stupid, _annoying_ woman," he said again, between hot, drugging kisses; nipped the side of her neck, trailed kisses down to her collarbone, kissed her madly again.

"Why?" she managed a hoarse whisper, and in ture Sasuke fashion, he completely ignored her in lieu of better things. She let it go, if only for a few moments. She didn't know what it was, she only knew she was as wildly on fire as he was. The kiss went on and on. He took her mouth again and again, plundered it, flooding her with heat and as her knees went weak, his hands found their way benath her shirt. He shoved it up, unfastened the clasp of her bra and palmed her breasts. She gasped at the feel of his fingers molding the fullness, stroking over her nipples.

She heard Sasuke groan.

Sakura clung to him, kissing him just as fiercely as he kissed her. she tugged his shirt out of his jeans and began to work the buttons up front with trembling fingers. He dragged her shirt over her head and tossed it away, slid her bra straps off her shoulders and the lacy, black cups fell into a pile at her feet.

Hot, wet kisses followed. Deep erotic kisses that drove her insane. His shirt hung open. She shoved it off his shoulders, ran her hands over the hard planes of his chest. He was lean and solid, covered with a layer of muscle that bunched and tightened when he moved. The ridges of his muscles went taut beneath her hands.

Sasuke reached for the snap of her jeans, popped it open and buzzed down the zipper. "May I?"

She stilled, looking into his eyes, breathing hard. "Go ahead."

He kissed her again and the next thing she knew she was lying beneath him on the couch. His hand skimmed urgently over her body, but there was gentleness too. He cupped her breasts, teased her nipples, then bent his dark head and took one into his mouth.

Sakura moaned as sensations flooded through her. Sasuke nipped at her other breast, sucked it deep into his mouth and a shivery burst of heat slid into her stomach. His hand moved lower over her belly, inside the open zipper of her jeans, beneath her panties into the soft juncture of her legs. He parted the folds of her sex, began to stoke her, and she thought she would die of pleasure.

Sakura moaned.

She wanted to feel his hands and his mouth all over her, wanted him inside her, wanted to be so close she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Every time Sasuke nipped she felt as if she had morphed into someone else, as if her body were some alien, newly unearthed part of her that she could no longer control.

She didn't notice when he slid her jeans and panties down over her hips. Her hand reached out in a frenzy and guided him between her parted legs.

With a single deep thrust, Sasuke buried himself inside her. for a secong their world stilled, and then he moved, thrusting in and out, burying himself into her, letting her take a part of him until she cried out her release.

His muscles went rigid. In some vague corner of her mind, she realized he was fighting for control.

Sakura cried out his name and clung to his neck, unable to believe how quickly she had reached her peak. She knew the moment he gave up his struggle to hold back, felt him begin to move, felt the deep thrust and drag of his shaft against the wall of her passage. She felt him and a saturating pleasure and so much more as a second climax shook her.

Beneath her hands, hard muscles tightened and Sasuke groaned. The sinews of his hips flexed and moved as he empties himself inside her, his body going rigid, his shoulders glowing with a sheen of perspiration.

For a few long seconds, neither of them moved. The only sound in the room was the soft humming of the city below, their labored breathing and the soft thud of their heartbeats.

Sakura swallowed, turned and faced him. "What was that about?"

He didn't answer; stood up, gathered his clothes and started pulling on his shirt. Miffed, Sakura pulled herself up and grabbed him by the shell of his ear. "I asked something," she admonished, not unkindly.

Scowling, he tried to pry his ear away, avoided looking her in the eye, gave up eventually and let out an irritated sigh.

"Are you—," he started, stopped and looked away. "If you don't get an in with Senju, are you going to file for a divorce?" he asked bluntly.

Immediately, she snatched her hand away, and when he turned around with guarded eyes, she was looking at him in stony silence. Her state of undress didn't go unnoticed and scowling, he tossed the afghan on the couch at her face. It caught in her head and stayed there; she didn't move to push it away or pull it around her and suddenly he realized that he'd slighted her in some way.

In the same moment she reached out for his hair he realized that he'd made her really, really angry.

"You _stupid_ , idiot!" she cried, latching on to a fistful of his hair and tugging painfully. "You stupid, selfish, _brainless_ , idiot!"

Sasuke had too much dignity to cry out in pain. So he grit his teeth and tried to pry her hands away, while she shook him painfully.

"Why would you even think that!?"

"You sai—,"

"I was joking!"

"I didn't know—would you _let_ _go_ of my hair?"

She shook him harder and he felt a few of his hair spring free of their roots. Eventually, she did let go and he turned around, rubbing his sore noggin to watch her angrily pull on her clothes. He knew she was blinking away angry tears, so he reached out and pulled her back and pinned her to himself until she finally stopped struggling.

"I'm sorry," he told her solemnly.

"Apology not accepted," she flung back. "You just had angry sex with me, believing I would leave you the moment you can't give me something stupid."

"You married me for something stupid."

She looked like he'd slapped her. "I guess I did," she replied, terse and cutting, "But did you know that I care about you?"

He inhaled sharply.

"And when you care about someone like I care about you, you never leave them hanging dry."

He squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled. His hands were digging into her wrists—not painfully, but hard enough to leave shallow prints.

"Sakura," he started, swallowed and finally looked her in the eye. "I care about you, too."

She studied him, then slowly nodded. "Good. That means we spend the rest of our lives together. For better or for worse."

"For better," he insisted, loosening his grip on her, but never letting go.

 _x_

 _tbc_


	11. Chapter 11

Arranged

Summary: Arranged marriage in the twenty-first century might be uncommon, but is not unheard of. "He's in love with her."  
 **Notes:** It's over. It's done. Bye.

 _x_

 _There's love in shadows waiting to be seen._

 _x_

Itachi started dating a convicted embezzler named Kakuzo. Mikoto's hysteria was inconsolable.

"I mean, if he loves someone, then shouldn't she, as his mother, support him?" Naruto asked between huge gulps of ramen.

"She's not normal," said Sakura. "And I mean that in the best way possible."

Naruto shrugged helplessly, his saintly devotion and trust having trouble rearing its mushy head. "I just hope this ends well."

"Yeah, me too," said Sakura, slurping a sip of broth. "Sasuke tries to hide it, but he's worried too. Apparently, Itachi's been on a binge of serial dates since that whole online dating fiasco."

"And of all of them, he just had to pick out a convicted felon." Naruto's eyes were sparkling with laughter.

"Yes, he did." Sakura smiled at him.

"Soo Sakura-chan," he waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Sakura's expression sharpened, walking a thin line between pleasantly murderous and deceptively calm.

"Are you in _luurv_ with Sasuke, yet?"

She rolled her eyes once, telepathically asking any deity to have some mercy. "Seriously, Naruto?"

"You wanna kiss him, you wanna hug him, you wanna—"

"Marry him? Yes, I already did that. In fact I do all of that. In fact—"

"LAalalalala—stop!" he cried, eyes scrunched shut in mock pain, "I don't want my ears to bleed!"

Sakura smirked and leaned back in her chair, satisfied. "You started it."

Naruto scowled flippantly and gestured for the bill.

"But seriously, Miss Congeniality?"

 _x_

Two days later, while she was helping him sign a cornucopia of files, in the middle of the night, her phone rang with an e-vite.

It was from Mikoto, slated 'URGENT' with a subject title of Family Intervention.

With raised brows, she dropped her pen and straightened. "Sasuke…" she said, a little shell shocked, "I think I got an e-vite."

Absentmindedly, he leaned sideways and brushed his lips against her temple.

Her heart fluttered. "For a family intervention."

"Aa," he intoned, signing his name in one fluid stroke.

"From your mother."

He stopped, raised his brow and finally turned to look at her. _Not good_ , his face read.

"Not good, at all."

 _x_

Uchiha Manor, as always, was a sight to behold. In almost a year of being married, Sakura had been there only thrice; once, with her family, once; to drop off Mikoto and the last; when Sasuke wanted to show her the rolling expanse of gardens behind the manor. She'd held his hand, while he'd led her down one path, then another, and another, and another, not saying anything, until the sun had started to set.

It had been a good day.

Now, she stood, at the door once more, wary and apprehensive.

She looked at Sasuke. Sasuke looked at her.

"Sucks," she said, her lips tilting into a one sided smile that Sasuke didn't return.

Someone cleared their throat from behind. It was dainty and suffused with an air of dignified pomp that only Itachi ever managed to express.

They turned in tandem.

Itachi stood at the base of the porch stairs. He was impeccably dressed with his shoulders back and head held high, not looking the least bit ruffled by the fact that his mother had called in a family intervention to break off his budding relationship with a former convicted felon.

"Sasuke." He nodded his head politely. "Sakura."

"Hi."

Cue awkward silence.

"Uhm. Shall we go in?" she asked, hurriedly opening the door and not waiting for a response.

Sasuke and Itachi followed.

"I assure you, two," said Itachi in a silky voice, "that if things start to go south—"

"More so then they are?" Sakura interjected playfully.

"—I will not hesitate to throw you under the bus."

"Whatever do you mean by that?" Sakura asked breezily, while Sasuke's posture visibly straightened.

They walked down the hall in silence.

"I see," Itachi murmured despondently, just as they reached the family room.

Today, Mikoto didn't flutter to the door to greet everyone with a warm hug. Instead, she sat rigidly straight on the loveseat, beside a gorgeous Tiffany lamp, half her face cast in shadows and the other half glowing in the artificial light.

"Welcome, darlings," she said solemnly, and gestured for everyone to take a seat.

Fugaku, from his corner of the room, gave them an apologetic shake of the head.

Sakura was taken aback by the theatrics, but only slightly. The Uchiha, sans Sasuke, she was coming to understand, thrived on drama. Just a few days ago, someone had discovered that Great Grandfather Madara had been entertaining a very homosexual affair with a very prominent political figure before tragically passing away.

Half the clan had been scandalized and reduced to jittery hissy fits. Even Sasuke had been strangely muted.

Then Itachi had upped the bar.

And now, Mikoto sat before them in all her motherly glory; alternating between shooting Itachi reproachful glares and then a tightlipped smile to Sasuke and Sakura.

They all took a seat.

"Itachi." She said his name like a command. Even Sakura stood a little bit straighter in her seat. "I need you stop this atrocity."

"I have no idea, what you are talking about mother," said Itachi, who had morphed into a paragon of tranquility.

She shared a three-way worried glance with Sasuke and Fugaku, and they all shuffled a little backward on their seats.

"Itachi-chan," said Mikoto, her voice stained, and her gaze brimming with motherly affection, "Would you please reconsider your choice in partners?"

"Mother—"

"There are hundreds of delightful young men out there. Why would you choose—"

"I am a grown man, Mother—"

"And most of the time, you make splendid choices. I just wish—"

"I am fully capable of making my own decisions—"

"Itachi, would you _marry_ him?"

Itachi inhaled through his nose, then let out a calming breath.

"I don't know about you," Sakura murmured in Sasuke's ear, "but I really, really, don't want to be a part of this freak show."

"For once," said Itachi, solemn and reproachful, "I wish you would just respect my decisions."

Mikoto looked hurt. "When have I not respected your decisions?"

"You set up a fake online dating profile."

"I was only trying to help—"

"That was not helping—"

"A mother knows best, Itachi!"

Itachi sighed. Sakura shared another three way group glance with Sasuke and Fugaku.

"Wife," said Fugaku tentatively, "Maybe, let him be."

Mikoto looked crushed.

"Mother," said Sasuke, getting up and sitting next to her. He reached out a hesitant arm and Mikoto slid into his embrace.

Itachi turned his head to the side, metaphorically pouting like a sullen child.

Sakura played with the heel of her shoe and tried very hard to not interject.

She failed.

"Okay, this is ridiculous," she said, throwing her hands up. "Itachi? Are you in love with this Kakuzo person."

Itachi didn't hesitate even a second. "Of course, not."

Mikoto seemed to slump with relief.

"Then, dump him."

"I don't want to."

"Why?"

"Why must I have a reason?"

"Itachi." This time, it was Fugaku, who interjected.

"Father," said Itachi, meeting everyone's gaze head on.

Sakura shook her head in disappointed disbelief. He was acting like a stubborn, willful child.

The terse silence followed them to the dining table, where utensils clinked in tense silence; everyone tip toeing around the elephant in the room.

But Uchiha Mikoto was a stubborn woman; if she weren't, Sakura wondered faintly, she wouldn't be there, sitting at that table with this misfit of a family. And because she had a purportedly one track mind, Mikoto fished Itachi off the table as soon as he'd had his last bite. They watched in silence as she picked her way all the way up the stairs.

And they waited in silence. They knew Itachi had already lost.

 _x_

Itachi knew that his mother was not an unreasonable woman—just, very passionate and slightly…authoritarian, in the most effusive of ways. He wasn't surprised when he yielded his childish dogma and let her embrace him. In fact he was almost relieved.

She leaned on the balcony balustrade now, watching the sun set, and he stood by her side, wanting to go back in time and be a young boy again.

"That's a pretty sight," she said, softly.

When he saw, he had to admit that it was. Sasuke, with his hands cupped on Sakura's face, and Sakura's holding his wrists.

How their eyes met and held. How her lips trembled just a little, how gently he brushed them with his. And how they stayed there, just so, fixed in that bare whisper of a kiss.

"He's in love with her," Mikoto whispered, dabbing at her eyes. He could see that glowing happiness behind her crumpled face, and an odd kind of serenity in his own heart.

"Aa," he agreed, smiling slightly.

 _x_

Sasuke knew what love felt like—it felt like his mother's warm embrace, his brother's kind smile. It felt like the small crinkling at the corner of his father's eyes and Suigetsu's loudly cussed out greeting. It was such a small word; love, made of such big increments; trust, care, credence, reliability. A partnership, in essence.

And this partnership with Sakura, was setting on a solid foundation now. They trusted each other, cared for each other, relied on each other, and – his chest hitched a little on the last part – maybe his heart had already started faltering in the direction of love.

It was a heady kind of rush, as well as a fettered sort of disappointment.

He didn't know what to do about it.

 _x_

"Have you ever just looked at someone and thought, "I really love you'? They're just talking or humming or watching a movie or reading a book or laughing or something, and there's something about them in that moment that makes you think, "I just really love you."

Hinata didn't so much as smile, but there was a softening at the edges of her eyes, as if they were glowing. "Yes," she said. "I have."

Sakura inhaled a deep breath and swallowed. "It's scary."

"It is," she agreed.

"What do I do about it?"

"Whatever you want to."

"You're no help at all."

At this, Hinata did smile. "Maybe that's why you came to me."

And she had. Naruto would have broken out his most lethal 'larv' songs, Ino would have cackled in glee; they both wouldn't have given her a chance to accept what she was actually feeling. And what she was feeling was…she didn't know. It was the hardest thing to comprehend; to _love_ someone. To be _in_ love with someone.

A year ago she would've spit in his face, crushed his balls, beaten him to a bloody pulp and it wouldn't have had mattered. Now, she waited up for him, made sure he wasn't overworking himself; her heart fluttered at his small gestures of kindness. She wanted to pick out all the beautiful things in the world and put them at his feet. _God_ , she thought, horrified. Her feelings were borderline cliché.

"What do I _do_ , Hinata?" she asked again, desperately.

"Sakura-chan," said Hinata, still smiling softly, "I think you already know."

 _x_

"I was stupid," Sasuke declared waspishly.

It took Sakura a moment to comprehend that yes, Sasuke was talking to her. "That's very honest of you," she replied with a teasing smile. He'd been cutting an apple for her, and she'd been signing off some documents for him.

"You're an annoying woman," he sighed, and shoved a plate full of apple slices in front of her.

"And you, honey bun," she pinched his cheek painfully, "sound like a broken record."

He rubbed the stininging red spot on his cheek and shot her a dirty look. "I was young, and stupid," he declared again.

"So you say," said Sakura, magnanimously, then rubbed his cheek gently, to coax the sting away.

His eyes softened, and he didn't push her away. Instead, he looked her in the eyes and said, "I was seventeen and cocky. Father refused to let me near any large commissions. Like a fool, I was—it was—"

Sakura held her breath, her hand on table beside his scared to say anything for fear of scaring him away.

"There was this man; he—conned me into joining the Sound Outfit—"

She gasped. Sound was one of the most notorious assembly of Konoha's seedy underbelly; once you were in, you hardly ever got out.

"I did a lot of terrible things, Sakura."

His hand trembled slightly beside hers so she laced her fingers with his. He held on, didn't say anything for a little while. The invisible rift that had been holding him back was no longer there. In the silence of the apartment, she rested her head on his shoulder, bought their twined hand to her mouth and kissed the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," she told him gently.

"I was stupid," he said again, like it was the most natural thing in the world to discredit his mental capacity again and again.

"In that case, I'm sorry you were an imbecile," she said, a small smile in her words.

"Thank you for understanding."

"It was no problem at all."

"I almost got Suigetsu and Karin killed."

"And yet they are still alive."

"We got lucky."

"That you did."

Tentatively, he rested his head on top of hers and she thought, I think I love him. The words slid into her head between one breath and the next, and she couldn't deny them anymore than pretend she wasn't breathing.

It didn't matter that she was headlong in love and he wasn't even close to tripping. They fit. They fit. Whether anyone saw it or not, it had clicked for them.

She swallowed and took a deep calming breath, then without looking him in the eyes, said, "I think—um, I think that maybe, I might be in love with you."

His belly pitched. His heart gave one violent knock against his chest, like an angry fist. The words slid through him like hope. He caught them, held them to himself, and turned. She sat beside him, steeling herself, her eyes on him.

"I think I might be, too," he admitted, then kissed her before she could duck, drew the kiss out when she forgot to protest.

When they parted, her green eyes were alit with a smile. "And here I thought you had the charm of a housefly."

She watched his lips bow up before she closed hers over them, again. And the taste of him soothed every ache in her body and soul. She wrapped her arms tight around his neck. And it felt good. It felt right. It felt so damn perfect, loving him.

 _x_

Uchiha Sarada was not an impatient person. She had, however inherited her Papa's knack for not running late – which he himself was gradually growing out of. She stood beside her small hello kitty clutch, adjusted the billowy hat on her head and tapped her foot impatiently. The wedding would start in precisely three and a half hours, and because they had to go through the estate, they had to reach the venue in precisely forty-five minutes.

Sighing, she left her room and knocked on the main suites door. No one answered. She entered. She heard commotion in the bathroom and quickly made her way there. Predictably, Mama was bent over the porcelain, heaving her breakfast out while Papa held her hair back, gently patting her on the back.

Sarada was twelve years old, and Mama was…not quite as young as she would have people believe. So when she found out she was going to be a big sister, she hadn't quite known what to feel. A part of her was innately happy, the other a little dampened by the fact that she would no longer be Papa's only princess and Mama's only sweetheart. Those two parts of her were coming to terms, yet still.

When it looked like the sickness had finally passed, she helped Mama stand up. "I'm too old for this," Mama lamented, almost but not quite miserably.

Sarada checked her smile, and in the vanity mirror, shared an amused glance with Papa – who looked particularly dashing in his suit.

Together, they helped Mama, who was less then thrilled with two grown, almost indentured servants by her side almost all hours of the day. "I'm just pregnant, not invalid!" she would often snap at Papa, who would kiss her wordlessly and despite herself, Mama would be mollified.

"Is the baby okay," she asked, tentatively.

"Baby's fine, sweetheart," said Mama, bending down only a little to kiss her on the forehead. Papa was beside her in an instant, running a hand through her hair and putting a hand on the small of Mama's back.

"Let's go," he said, and started leading them away.

"We're going to be late," she informed everyone matter-of-factly.

"It's fine. I'm sure Itachi-jii will understand."

And he would, thought Sarada, adjusting the ribbon on her hat. Infact he and Sasori-Ji, both would like Mikoto- _obāsan_ running rampant around someone other than them. She could almost picture the scene now, Obasan running amuck in her beautiful Kimono, with a harried looking Ojii-sama on her heels, flitting around the guests while Ji-chan stood at the altar with his better half.

It was going to be fun.

 _x_

 _fin_


End file.
